War of the Shadows
by Willowfly
Summary: Caught in the throes of an epic battle between worlds, the turtles' lives are changed forever. An tale of unwavering hope, unimaginable suffering, the injustices of war, and the unbreakable bond between brothers that prevails over all. Darkfic.
1. Chapter 1: A Window and A Door

War of the Shadows

BY Willowfly

_A/N: I really didn't like Fast Forward… actually, I hated it with a fiery passion. So this story came to me in a dream one night while I was angsting over the complete failure the FF season. I soon found myself contemplating about ways to link the future of FF with the alternate-reality that is SAINW. The story got a little away from me since, but I do try to stick to that general theme._

_This is my first fan fic ever, so the writing may be shaky in parts. Please be patient, all errors are in the process of being corrected._

Summary:

The turtles are stuck in the future, aching to return home. Donatello works endlessly on a way when a call from the now President Bishop sends them on a mission to save not only the Earth, but the entire universe.

In the future, they walk amongst the people, no longer banished to the darkness. But still they find themselves living in the shadows—the shadows of war, the shadows of those they admire, the shadows of ghosts. A tale of unwavering hope, unimaginable pain, the injustices of war, and the scars it leaves behind.

**NOTICE: Story is STILL under reconstruction. Bear with me .**

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_EDITED VERSION: 7/31/09_

Chapter 1: A Window and a Door

The engine hummed with brilliant electricity as its huge metal frame charged to life. Donatello could feel that same fluttering energy in his veins, as if the air had turned electric. He took a step back when the surge hit the receivers like a lightning bolt, a sudden pulse of light twisting through its center. The anticipation was deadly.

_This just might work _he thought, he prayed. He'd failed enough already.

He looked over to Cody, standing in the corner with his arms folded. His sad smile told it all: he didn't want them to leave, but knew that someday all too soon, they would return to their time, the world where they belonged. Every bit of his greater judgment told him it was unnatural to have them here, but over time, painted by the stories of his grandmother's wild tales now made tangible by some twist of fate, they had become his family—the only friends he had ever known.

And soon, they would leave him and he'd be on his own again, alone, just the same as it always has been. Each day spent working with Don on the Time Portal was like saying another long goodbye.

"If I have the calibrations set just right, I think it might be able to withstand the amount of energy required to create a viable porthole," Donatello said excitedly, childish hope flashing in his eyes. But along with the hope dwelled a premature echo of longing. Sometimes, it felt like he'd been born one hundred years too soon.

The machine's humming grew louder as a sudden pulse of energy shot through the machine, the light growing from each receptor formed another spark in the center of the frame that concentrated, twisted and grew.

Don's eyes widened, his heart raced, the joyous beat of victory. _I did it! I really did it!_

After a few moments, the spark grew and opened, ripped through the air like a paper cut until it was no longer just a spark, it was… home. He could smell the city air, feel it on his skin, hear the quiet sound of a car alarm echoing in the distance.

The porthole had opened onto the rooftop by the water tower where the brothers had spent much of their nighttime crusades. Many workout sessions had been drilled into them by the well-meaning Leonardo. Many nights spent just sitting, looking at the darkened sky, and feeling free for just one moment.

They had battled the Shredder there, the night they'd thought he had been dead for good, only to find they had been so gravely wrong. His heart ached for the memories—the feel of a midnight run, that eerie glow the streetlamps cast in the rain, even the sound of water rushing through the old copper pipes as he slept at night. That one little rip, that one gaping tear into the time where he belonged was enough to remind him: in the future he had gained a lot, but he had left so much more behind.

All these thoughts flew through his mind as he stared into the twisting little window. The memories that flowed over him like water felt like they were from another life, somebody else's memories haunting his own. It was a way of life forgotten by the world far too long ago. An entire century had come and passed, built on the foundations of the past, but like a void in the future's memory.

It was a time before peace, and few people liked to remember it.

Don flinched out of his reverie as the window collapsed like a caving wall. In just a breath, it was blown out of existence like a candle's flame. He blinked at the sound of the engine struggling.

"It's overloading!" He yelled over the suddenly monstrous noise. "We need to cut the power!"

Cody moved quickly to the failing engine, flipping open the compartment that housed the main power supply. But it was too late. The light in the porthole grew intensely brighter, and then, with a loud bang, it went out.

"The system's fried," Cody said, choking on the smoke coughing from the machine's underbelly. The once intricately woven web of wires now looked like a pitiful jumble of melted charcoal. "What happened?"

"I could have sworn I had it right that time," Don mused. This was the fourth overload this week. He couldn't possibly become _that_ sloppy. "I was sure of it. We were so close." He shook his head, frustration raking at his brain. Then suddenly, his expression shifted. He remembered the air, the sounds of the city. He beamed excitedly. "I could see it! I could see New York! I mean, I could see _my _New York. Gosh, if only I knew what went wrong."

Cody, looked a little less thrilled, brushing ashes from his hair with a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, that was great," he said. "So close. Maybe we'll get it next time."

A noise behind them caught their attention. Raphael had appeared in the doorway, looking shaken. He stared at the mangled porthole, his hands balled in white-knuckled fists.

Don's expression sobered. "Sorry about the noise," he said, hoping Raph would spare him from whatever he head in mind.

"I don't care about the noise, Don," he said gruffly. "I'm sick of waitin' for this hunk of junk to work." Raph didn't raise his voice, but the look in his eyes was dangerous. Don braced himself for the worst, taking little comfort in the fact that Raph didn't have his weapons.

"Raph, I'm sorry. I know you're anxious, but we're getting really close and we're doing everything we can."

"Close ain't good enough!" He yelled. That pent-up frustration was looking for an out. "If you can't make that piece of shit work, than I will." He picked up a wrench lying on the floor next to Cody and hurled the heavy tool at the machine.

Don thought of throwing himself in the line of fire, but knew that it wouldn't have been worth the injury. So he stood, helplessly watching as the metal object careened toward the machine and struck it hard with a clatter of fractured metal.

"Well if it wasn't broken before, it is now," Don sighed. He didn't want to start any trouble, but he was just too upset to keep silent.

Instead of retaliation, Raph seemed disheartened. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, turning for the door. "Be grateful it wasn't you, Brainiac."

As he slammed the door behind him, Cody couldn't help flinching. A familiar pang of guilt leaped into his stomach. He had been the one that brought them here. It was his fault they were miserable.

Most of the time, Cody thought that the turtles enjoyed being with him, enjoyed the opportunities he presented them. For the first time in their lives they could walk in the daylight without fear. They could experience peace and acceptance unlike anything of their time. They could actually live a normal life according to the future's standards. In their time, there just wasn't any acceptance for sentient non-humans. Earth society just didn't have that kind of understanding. In their time, all of this would have been impossible.

Don and Mikey had always seemed happy. Every day they discovered something new that amazed them. The technological advances that had taken place over the last one hundred years provided Michelangelo with endless hours of entertainment and Donatello with an entire world of ground-breaking technology and new levels of understanding in every aspect of life. Cody always believed that for the two youngest turtles, living in the future was like one big amusement park.

For Leo and Master Splinter, adjustment came slowly, but unprotested. He had never heard either of them complain about anything major, so he'd always assumed they were happy. And if they were happy, Cody was very happy.

But then there was Raph. The others told him that was just how he was like. Give him some time and he would come around eventually. And it was true, for the most part. After a couple weeks he started acting more like himself, but he still seemed to be fighting this every chance he got.

Cody had tried everything to cheer him up. The races, for one. When Raphael got back on that motorcycle, he'd thought everything would be fine from then on. But in the end, nothing really changed. If anything, it only reminded him more of the past and they were right back at square one again.

It was mostly because of him that Donatello had been so adamant about repairing the Time Portal as soon as possible. They worked on it for every day, but to no avail. Progress was slow and Raph's patience was quickly wearing thin.

"Higher. Strike _higher,_" Leonardo demanded, feet apart, crouched in a defensive stance. They'd been sparring endlessly all morning.

"I'm trying!" Mikey huffed. He was posed for another strike, but fully intended to stall until he could catch his breath.

"No you're not," Leo said coldly, taking advantage of his brother's hesitation to deliver a strong blow to the chest. Mike took it without flinching, shuffling a few steps backward. Mikey seemed to be just not getting it today. He had to snap out of this, and fast. "Don't just stand there," he demanded, "counterstrike!"

Mikey's confidence was wavering. Instead of attacking, he just stood and stared at his older brother, shaking his head as if he couldn't even remember how to execute a simple punch.

Ever since he had vowed to train harder and stop being so easily distracted by his videogames, Leo had been coming down hard on him. For over a week, every morning seemed to start like this. After just a few hours of training, Leo was easily able to wear him out.

"Okay, stop," he said dejectedly. He was trying not to let his frustration get the better of him, but seeing his brother give up so easily was ridiculous. He never even had to withdraw his weapons. Leo lowered his hands to his sides and stared at him sternly.

Mike was obviously shattered, his eyes were wandering around the room, refusing to meet his gaze.

"What have you been doing the past two weeks?"

Mikey's eyes settled on the ground as he spoke. "I've been working really hard, honest. It's just not working." He sighed, letting his shoulders sink with his exhale. "I dunno… I guess I'm not very good, huh?"

"Don't ever say that!" Leo exclaimed. It was a shock to hear Mike actually put himself down. He used to be so sure of himself, cocky, even. Leo couldn't believe that Michelangelo, the ever-so-irritating Battle Nexus Champion, would ever even dare say such a thing. "You can so much better than this. I've seen you do it. Remember your rematch with Kluh? I've never seen anyone fight like that before."

Mike shifted uneasily. "You know I don't want to talk about that, Leo."

Leo sighed, letting some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. "Look, Mike. You're a natural, but you let that carry you through too often. And sometimes, just being a natural isn't enough. If you would just practice more often, you wouldn't have let yourself go so badly."

But things had changed. Their lives weren't how they used to be. Being able to walk about in broad daylight had opened new doors for them, and Mikey was sure as shell going to take advantage of it. They could finally lead a normal life… or at least, as normal a life as a mutated turtle from the past could have. Before, all there was were sewers… his brothers… ninjitsu. But now he had the whole world as his playground. He could go wherever he wanted, do pretty much anything he wanted, even talk to anybody he wanted and nobody was ever afraid of him. He could see movies, eat at restaurants, and even walk into comic book stores whenever he felt like it and never have to worry. His life was no longer just about being a ninja, it was about being a teenager—a _real _teenager, not just some warrior who happened to be teenaged. It seemed right to make the most of it, unlike s_ome _brothers who were still stuck in the past.

It was funny how Leo and Raph were alike sometimes. Not that either one of them would admit it.

Unfortunately for Leo, Mikey often found himself abandoning practices or whatever because he had better things to do. A lot of times he felt guilty that his new life meant ninjitsu was taking a back seat. But for the first time he could ever remember, he felt happy, not just making the most of things, but really, truly happy. He just couldn't deny himself that.

Leo didn't understand, and in a way, Mikey pitied him for it. Leo seemed to fit in the future like an apple in a crate of oranges. While those oranges threw this awesome party, the apple just kind of watched and smiled in its weird little Leo way. But Leo wasn't an apple as much as Mikey wasn't an orange. Even in the future, ninjitsu was all Leo had. It may still be Leo's life, but it was no longer his.

"Why do you even care so much? It's not like the old days. There isn't anything to be afraid of. We don't have to fight, we don't have to be scared of being somebody's science project, we don't have to be anything but who we want to be!" Leo looked unimpressed, but said nothing. Mike shot him his best innocent grin. "Stop being such a worry wart. These are better days, bro! Ease up, go outside, _see the sights! Have a little fun for a change."_

"Fun? I have fun. But there's a proper balance between recreation and discipline, Michelangelo."

Mike snorted, jabbing his brother playfully in the arm. "_Recreation_ is not fun, Leo. It sounds like polka night at the old folk's home. What do you do that's even close to fun? Come on, tell me. And meditation, training, or that yoga thing you do doesn't count."

Leo did not like the tables turned. It was his turn to shift uneasily, crossing his arms over his chest. "I enjoy those things, Mikey. Just because you don't have the patience for them doesn't mean I can't think they're fun. But other than that? I sketch. You know I sketch a little, along with my calligraphy. I just haven't had the time. Plus Cody told me paper goods are rare, so I don't plan on indulging myself. I guess that doesn't count."

Mikey's grin grew wider. It was rare to see Leo stumble over his words. "Nope. Doesn't count. See, Leo? You're missing out!"

With his lecture was lost on his brother _already_, the frustration was slowly creeping back in. Leo shook his head. "That's beyond the point. You goof around all day long like you've forgotten all of your discipline. If you forget everything you've ever known, how will you be able to defend yourself?"

Mikey only laughed, dealing his brother more playful jabs, but Leo only frowned. He looked so serious with that crease in his brow, and Mike was determined to end it. He jabbed his brother in the arm again. "Oh, come on Leo, you're a big stick in the mud and you know it. Lighten up for a change!"

That only seemed to make him madder- or, about as mad as Leo could actually _be_, which really wasn't so much mad as cold. "I'm not a stick in the mud. I'm just trying to keep you from forgetting that there are threats out there, just looking for a chance to hurt us. It might not be fun to think about, but you can never ignore it."

Mikey snorted, rolling his eyes. "See, there it is! Old stick in the mud Leo. This is the future, dude! It's awesome! No Foot, no Shredder, no Bishop. Or, well, there is a Bishop, but not a 'I'm gunna cut you open because I'm cool that way' kind of Bishop and—"

"Okay, Mike, that's enough." Leo interrupted, holding up his hand for silence and still looking very unimpressed. "Let's spar one more round, and try not to lead with your elbows this time."

Mike smiled sheepishly, twirling his nunchaku. "Does that mean you agree with me, or is it just an excuse to get me to shut up?"

Dodging the first attack, a strike with the nunchaku that listed a little too far to the left, he had time to ponder before the counterstrike. "It means… I don't know. It means I need more time to think about this."

After three well executed kicks, Mike looked like he was gaining confidence. He swung low with his nunchaku, missing a blow to his brother's knee by mere inches. Leonardo flipped swiftly out of the way and landed a few feet ahead. For the first time in a long time, he looked pleased.

Quickly, he nodded his younger brother a bow and unsheathed a single katana, holding it erect in a defensive stance.

Mikey had returned the bow, and his smile grew wider as he spun his nunchaku. "Getting better?" He grinned.

"Getting better."

In a flurry of weapons, Mike's strikes turned into a blur of bone-crushing force. But still, he was too slow. Leo blocked every one of his attacks with his katana then struck out, his sword colliding with the chains of Mike's nunchaku before it could taste flesh.

In a moment, they were locked, staring into each other's eyes.

"So how long are you going to think about this?" Mike asked teasingly. His gaze still burned with that same mischievous fire. But still, Leo was puzzled. He didn't answer. Mike's eyes searched the room, then settled back into his brother's gaze. He hesitated. When he spoke, his voice had lost all trace of humor. "You… you do know we're not ever going back, don't you?"

Leo's heart sank like a rock, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he let his eyes narrow. It was better to appear angry than heartsick. He'd covered it up well enough thus far. It would be a shame to let it show now.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said dryly, breaking free of the block, but waiting for the counterstrike.

Mikey's grin had disappeared for a moment, but then returned, sadder than before. "Sure I do," he said with that strange little smile, "Don can't fix that thing, he's been at it for months and maybe… maybe it's better we don't go back."

Leo's eyes widened, but he covered it up with an attack. In a flurry of steel, they were locked in battle once again.

Strike with the katana, block with the nunchaku's chain. Kick, twist, miss, strike again. Another strike with the nunchaku, easily dodged, strike with the katana once again.

They sparred until they had forced each other apart, panting and sweating, weapons at the ready on either side of the room. Mikey was fighting the best he had all week.

"Like I said," Leo panted, "you don't know what you're talking about. All Don needs is more time. He can fix anything. We'll be back home soon, so we'll have to be prepared."

Mike struggled between breaths to say what he'd been dying to say all morning, all week, ever since Don started working on that time machine. "What if I don't want to go back? Did you ever even ask about what I think?"

Leo looked stunned. He stood there, mouth hanging open unabashedly like his youngest brother had just said the most horrifying thing in the world. Before he could blink, Mike was swinging those nunchaku in his direction. He had to physically shake himself to respond.

"How can you even _think _something like that?" He hissed through gritted teeth, swinging low with his katana. Just in time, Mike dodged out of the way. When he went to strike again, he saw something strange ablaze in his younger brother's eyes.

"Well maybe I like it here," Mike said with a frown, dodging yet another attack. "I mean, come on. It's like, for the first time in our entire lives we're finally—"

Leo attacked, cutting him off before he could say it. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't _need_ to hear anymore.

But Mikey flipped easily out of the way, landing on the other side of the room. "…free."

That last word had him shaken, seized up every thought or trace of emotion he had inside. It was like standing as that proverbial deer in the headlights, just watching, waiting for that awesome moment of complete and udder doom.

"Wait… what?" He stammered, still trying to keep his mind focused on the attack.

"I said maybe I like it here. Maybe I don't want to go back."

Mike was standing there, twirling his nunchakus, and for some reason, the sight of his almost smug confidence, those words… _maybe I don't want to go back…, _they just kept replaying in his head.

Until now, Leo supposed he hadn't realized how strongly he felt, how angry he was at the sound of those words in his brother's mouth. It felt… hopeless.

Something foreign broke inside of him and he was moving in for an attack before he could feel it. It was rage. He couldn't stop himself. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was striking out with his katana, heading straight for that weak spot he'd been seeing all week, right where he would never see it coming…

"Holy shit!" Mike squealed, his eyes wide and frantic. He spun his nunchaku and let them collide the way Cody had showed him.

The tech weapons converged into a shield. When the katana collided with the force field, Leo met his brother's eyes, panting, beads of sweat running down his face. Mikey only blinked.

"I don't know what's happened to you," Leo said darkly, "but this has got to stop. You can never assume that everything will be safe forever. You can't assume we're never going back. We don't belong here, we never have, and when we go back, just remember everything you just told me, every practice you skipped, every meditation you botched when the time comes and you are not prepared."

Mikey could only stare into his brother's eyes. Their usual amber coolness seemed to be ablaze by some hidden fire. In the awkward silence, Mike let down the shield and belted his weapons, Leo lowered his own. But Mike still didn't back down. He folded his arms over his chest and glared stubbornly without a word.

Sheathing his katana, Leo didn't look away. Regaining his composure, he said in an icy tone, "Mike, give me your nunchaku."

Mikey's eyes widened and he let out a small, terrified gasp. He placed his hands over his nunchaku and gazed miserably over to his sensei sitting placidly in the corner.

"Master Splinter!" He moaned.

The old rat gazed up from where he had been sitting, silently watching the two brothers' sparring match. Looking much older, grayer, more feeble than either of them remembered, he said nothing. He looked over to his eldest son and gave a solemn nod.

"Hand them over, Mikey," Leo demanded.

Mike couldn't take his eyes off of his sensei. "But…"

"Do as your brother has told you, Michelangelo," said the old rat, looking more aware now.

Like tearing away a part of himself, a limb, a piece of his soul, he surrendered his tech nunchaku to his brother's outstretched hands.

"You need to stop relying on technology to win your battles for you. These weapons make you weak. They've made us all weak."

Mikey's nunchaku in hand, Leo stormed toward the door, turning back to Mike to shout something over his shoulder. "Go get Don and Raph and tell them to meet me in Cody's trophy room… now."

"Ok, ok, you don't have to be so pushy," he grumbled, heading out in the other direction to check the lab for any sign of Don. He had no idea where Raph would be, but he knew he would have to find him ASAP, or 'Fearless Leader' would be royally pissed off… or at least, more than he'd already seemed to be.

Mike couldn't fight away the feeling that he was in some serious trouble.

"What makes him think he's so great anyway?" He mumbled to himself. "He bosses us around twice as much as he used to. Doesn't even care about a thing I say. Take my chucks… what a jerk."

But then a thought struck him. Master Splinter had been so quiet for weeks now. It'd been a really long time since he had done any real teaching. He hadn't sparred with any of them in so long, and now he wasn't even saying anything. He was just watching, watching… Leo. Leo had been doing everything, leading meditation, giving pointers (and lectures), he was even was doling out punishments now.

Mikey shook his head. "Jerk," he mumbled again, feeling naked without his weapons.

Even Cody had become his new student, though all of them had once taken a vow to never teach ninjitsu to anyone after their mishap with Casey so long ago. He had refused to teach April, after all. But Leo had taught Cody everything he knew. Every morning he'd been giving the kid lessons on the roof before Mikey's routine shell-kicking. It seemed like recently Splinter had taken a huge step back in everything, leaving it all up to Leo.

No wonder he was being such a killjoy.

There was a noise coming down the hall from the Lab, a loud humming and then an ear-splitting explosion. Mikey could hear Raph and Donny arguing, then a smash and clamor of metal. Mike couldn't help smiling. "Raphie's up to his old tricks," he chuckled, running toward the source of the commotion.

When he came closer, he was almost bowled over by Raph rampaging out of the room like a bull and slamming the door behind him.

"What's the problem, Raphie boy?" He giggled. "Big 'ole Donny scare you?"

"Shut up Mikey. I'm not in the mood."

"Leo wants you in Cody's trophy room ASAP."

"I couldn't give a flying fuck what he wants," Raph growled.

"Whoa. Ok," Mikey said backing up a step, trying not to provoke his hothead brother any more than he already had. "Just chill, okay?"

Raph had his back to him, storming quickly down the hall. "Piss off."

"Where you going?"

"Out."

"OK… have a nice time, then," he said with overdone cheer. "You can deal with Leo when you get back. You know he stole my 'chucks?" But there was no reply. Raph had already disappeared down the hall.

Shrugging his shoulders, Mikey pushed open the door to the lab and was immediately engulfed in a thick wall of smoke. "Dude, that's rank! What happened in here?" He coughed, waving a hand in front of him. He could barely see a thing. He squinted at the shape he assumed was his brother and crinkled his nose. "It smells like burning plastic in here."

"The Time Portal went into systems overload. We completely fried the matrix and… I think Raph took out a receptor. I thought I had it calibrated to withstand the necessary energy requirement, but the generator went into overdrive. The converter overheated and, well, exploded."

"Uh-huh," he said dully. The techno-jargon had apparently gone way over his head. "Then I missed it blow up? Awww… tell me next time. I wanna see!" He pouted, only half joking.

"These things happen Mikey," Don said, wrenching open the control box and examining the machine's tangled mess of fried wires. "More often than I'd like them to. It's not like I plan on making things explode."

"Well it would be cool if you did. You could be like the guys on Myth Busters!"

"Um, yeah. Do you need something?" Don blinked as a pang of fear rushed over him, terrified that his little brother just might want to 'help'. He immediately started thinking of a million reasons why he shouldn't, preparing to defend the lab with his very life if it meant he could spare it from the walking natural disaster that was 'Hurricane Mikey.'

"Leo wants you in Cody's trophy room."

Don looked relieved. Mikey had no idea why.

"What for?" Asked a voice from behind the cloud of smoke. Cody's silhouette appeared shrouded in gray ash.

Mike shrugged. "I dunno." Then, pouting, he moaned, "but he took my 'chucks!"

"Come on," Don chuckled with a warm smile, peeling himself away from the unfortunate demise of the Time Portal and throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Let's find out what he wants."


	2. Chapter 2: Heart of Steel

_A/N: EDITED VERSION 7/31/09_

Chapter 2: Heart of Steel

Leo waited in the dark, surrounded by the musty silence of the trophy room. There was an almost archaic feel to the air, like secrets and age and memories lost—his own memories, tokens of his family's life behind solemn plates of glass. It was a museum, recounting their lives in stale silence and display cases instead of the blood and laughter and movement it deserved. There was nothing about their lives that was meant for standing still. The sight of their weapons standing on display like dusty antiques was a mockery of everything they stood for. Everything they still stand for.

The bo staff, cracked and splintered, the nunchaku old and worn, the sais, now fragile and dull. And there they stood on the center pedestal—his katana. He'd ached to hold them for so long, but logic—and Don—had told him the tech weapons were simply better. Wood and steel couldn't deflect the fire of a laser gun. It couldn't cut through the materials of this chrome and silicon world.

But with great technology comes great weakness. Leo had seen it both in his brothers and in himself—they were faltering, making rookie mistakes because they had come to rely so heavily on the technology of their weapons instead of the years of training they had received from their master. The very thought of it was a disgrace to them all.

He pushed back the glass without hesitation, fingering the steel he knew so well, now dull and coated in the dust of years.

Cody had kept his collection off limits since their arrival like the over-zealous Mikey fussing over his comic books. But Master Splinter had agreed in its protection, in the interest of not tarnishing the past. So the room had been rendered taboo, and no one dared to touch the artifacts within. Not until now.

The steel was still strong—yes, very strong. He could feel it whisper of past battles with every scar carved into their surface. Every mark had a name and a purpose. The handle—he touched it—felt brittle but able. He picked one up and examined its blade. It bore more scars than he remembered—memories of battles yet to come. Every scar spun a tale of fate, like the mark of destiny etched on window glass. In his hands it felt right, it felt like home, like a piece of himself that had been missing for far too long.

When Mikey entered the room with Don and Cody in tow, they broke the grim silence like a breath of air. This room needed more vitality. Still, they were one short. "Where's Raph?" He asked almost immediately.

"Out," Mike replied with a shrug.

Leo frowned into his reflection in the warped steel. _I guess that will have to be dealt with later._

"What do you think you're doing?" Came a horrified gasp. Cody stared at the katana in the turtle's hands, eyes widened. "Don't touch those! They're not—"

"Not what?" Leo challenged quickly, a strange light in his eyes. "Not mine?"

Cody looked dumbfounded. In a way, Mikey could sympathize. He knew what it was like to have someone jeopardizing his treasures. But this was _their _stuff, not his. Plus, the way everyone had forbidden him to touch it had only fueled his curiosity. Just the thought of figuring out all those so-called 'secrets' of their lives not yet lived made his insides squirm with excitement. Suppressing a grin, he almost laughed at Leo breaking the rules without any guilt at all. It was like freakin' Christmas!

Leo examined the mount of the blade, holding up to the ceiling. It made him look almost regal as he spoke. "Ever since we got here we've relied on technology to bring us through our battles. We've won easily against our enemies, but there was a price. We've gotten weak, guys. We've forgotten the ways of our master, of his master. Our tech weapons give us an advantage that is beyond the ways of bushido, and by using them, we are betraying everything we've ever been taught, everything we stand for."

Leo placed the katana gingerly back on the pedestal, like lulling a child to sleep. With both hands, he reached back and quickly unsheathed the tech katana from behind him. Holding them up, it just didn't give the same affect. The tech weapons were good, strong weapons, but they didn't belong to him. They weren't a piece of his soul. The raw steel and ancient wood were more a part of him than any scrap of highly advanced tech ever would be.

His old swords had been forged from scrap metal on Casey's farm. Raph had helped him meld the blades after their predecessors were lost in battle that awful night the Shredder attacked. Then, Leonardo had been wounded in both body and in spirit, but making the swords had helped make him whole again. They were the same swords, taken in the hands of Karai, that had betrayed him. He remembered the cold bite into flesh, piercing through his shoulder so deeply it peeled away a chunk of his shell. There, it had left its mark and tasted its master's blood. It was a scar he still carried both proudly and with shame. It had come to symbolize both a moment of weakness, and the strength to overcome.

That was what his family was about—not musty relics sitting on quiet shelves, but pain, war, blood, scars, and the strength to overcome. Like the swords, they'd been forged from the scrap. They'd been broken, torn, and battered, always to be made whole again.

He placed the tech sword on the pedestal next to the ancient blades, this time not as carefully. Then, he took up his katana and was made complete. He could breathe more easily, like a great weight had been lifted. Sheathing the two swords behind him, he faced his brothers, giving them their orders without uttering a word.

Donatello and Michelangelo approached their battered weapons. Don ran hesitant fingers over the bo's once-smooth surface, finding it interrupted by splinters and cracks. The tape had been worn to nothing. He frowned. The bo was nothing like the katana. It just couldn't stand up to the wear of years like the others. Luckily, Don wasn't attached to his bo as Leo was with his swords. He'd lost more staffs than he could count for one reason or another. And honestly, he couldn't even remember this one. It probably had been replaced before his time. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd be in need of another.

Mikey's nunchaku were also pretty worn, but still strong enough. The wood was bonded weakly to the chains, but that was easy enough to repair. A little bit like him, in a way. They both could use some improvement.

The boys took up their weapons, abandoning the tech weapons behind them. But Don still had his doubts. "Leo, you do know the tech weapons are the more practical choice, right? Don't get me wrong, our old weapons are great, but the tech weapons are far more variable. There's the force fields for deflecting laser fire, and the alloys their made from can deal with materials that just weren't present in our time. The old ones are kinda…outdated."

"There are other ways for taking on a laser than facing it head on, Don. You know that." Leo sighed. "You see, this is what I mean. Ever since the new weapons, our entire way of thinking has shifted. You've become too bold. We all have. In the old days, your bo couldn't deflect bullets, could it Donny?"

"Well, no."

"Right. And we were constantly getting shot at. What do you think kept us alive then?" He looked around the room, studying the faces. "It was our training, our discipline, our skill. We didn't face our opponents head-on unless we had no other options. Master Splinter would never have taught us that. We fought them with our minds as much as our bodies, with the ways of ninjitsu."

"You're right. I should've seen that coming. I guess the techno-geek in me overrode the ninja in me. But…" Don smiled sheepishly, holding the old staff out for Leo to inspect. "I don't think this staff is going to make it through another battle. It'll have to be replaced, but I promise no tech this time."

Leo gave his brother a thoughtful smile. "Thanks Donny."

"I don't care what I get, as long as I get my chucks back!" Mikey interrupted, cradling the weapons like an infant, pretending to dole out sticky-sweet kisses. "Did my babies miss daddy?" He cooed, "'cause daddy missed the babies. Yes he did!"

Both Don and Leo rolled their eyes. They were glad Raph hadn't been there to retaliate.

Speaking of which…. "Did Raph say anything about where he was going?"

Mike shrugged. "I dunno, he just said he was going out."

* * *

Everything was finally quiet. With all the light, sound, and technology of 2105 humming and whirring around him every second of the day, the future was bound to give him a migraine. The night seemed to be the only pause for breath the world ever took.

Sitting on the couch in the silent living room, Leo closed his eyes and attempted to slip into meditation. But with Raph's extended absence gnawing at the corners of his consiousness, his eyes had soon slid open again, glancing at the waiting door.

Master Splinter had insisted on staying up and waiting, but Leo had finally convinced him to go to bed and not worry. He would deal with it. Exactly _how_ he would be dealing with it was still a work in progress.

Three 'o clock in the morning, Raph finally stumbled out of the elevator and nearly fell flat on his face, catching himself by the edges of the elevator doors. Leo had a long, stern lecture prepared, but when he saw his brother in trouble, his heart leapt into his throat and left every word forgotten. His pulse pounded in his ears as he ran to his brother's side and helped him steady on his feet. No blood, no bruises...

Actually, he looked perfectly fine. "Raph?" He asked, blinking at the strong smell that reached his nostrils. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah," he grunted, squinting through bloodshot eyes as he shook free from Leo's grip, "what of it?"

"_And _you're drunk. What were you thinking?" He said frantically, stealing an uneasy glance up the empty stairwell. "We can't let Master Splinter see you like this," he whispered, trying to direct his brother into the kitchen. Splinter would be heartbroken if he knew. His brother had already given him more than enough reasons to worry. Leo wouldn't allow him another one.

"Would you get offa me?" He shouted, ripping his arm free again.

"What's gotten into you? You'll wake everyone!"

"I don' give a damn," he slurred. "For your information, Fearless, you don' run this joint, so shut the hell up an' leave me alone."

"Raph, _please_," he begged. "Come in the kitchen and have some coffee."

It was the only thing Leo could think of. He'd heard it was supposed to help drunks sober, but other than that he was at a loss. If only he could get Raph into the kitchen, he could at least drag him out of earshot. But Raph, of course, was bent on acting like a petulant child.

Raph wobbled dangerously, his expression pulled into a glare. "You ain't my father, Leo. I'm sick of you tryin' ta be Splinter Junior every second of your life. He ain't dead, so stop actin' like it."

Leo's face suddenly went ashen.

Even in his inebriated state, Raph had sensed it. He stopped, expression softening before covering his face with his hand. "Aw, hell."

"It's nothing," he said quickly before swallowing and starting again, this time with better control. "He just sensed something… a dark presence. Something is going to happen soon, and he said if feels like…"

Raph's head shot up, pulling his hand away. "Like what?" He snapped.

"Like death."

"Damn." It was barely a second before he started shouting again. "Could my life get any worse?! I hate the fucking future! I hate this—" he cut himself off, gesturing wildly around him. "I hate all of this crap."

"He could be wrong. It's not like visions are anything solid. They have to be interpreted and—" Leo stopped, flinching away from his brother's glowering face now just inches from his.

"When is Master Splinter _ever _wrong?"

Leo didn't have an answer. His mouth moved, but no words came out. So instead, he tried to change the subject. "Why don't we talk about this in the kitchen? I could make some of Don's coffee. I heard that's supposed to help. Maybe after you go to bed you can sleep this off."

Raph's face twisted into a scowl before he turned to storm across the living room."Whatever. Jus'… jus' leave me alone. Would everybody jus' leave me the hell alone?!"

"Raph!"

Raph turned, scowl still intact. "Oh, shaddup. I'm sick of this optimistic crap. Ever since we got dumped into this hell-hole, everything's sucked and you know it. But what do they do? They _smile. _They say how great everything is. Bullshit."

Leo tried not to react, only replied placidly. "Raph, come on." He motioned to the kitchen. "We can talk where no one else can hear."

Surprisingly, Raph folded. Praying nobody had heard his brother's outbursts, he was finally able to lure him into the kitchen. Raph took a seat at the table while Leo busied himself with the coffeemaker.

With a frustrated moan, Raph pounded his fist down on the table, leaving a crack twisting through its surface. He thumped his head down miserably and crossed his arms in front of him. "I dunno know," he mumbled into the table top. "I just don'…"

Leo sat down across the table with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He felt sorry for his brother. His voice was wavering, which was a whole new experience on its own. He hadn't seen Raph cry since they were kids. "It's okay. I understand. The future's been hard on all of us, and you've had a hard time adjusting. But acting like this isn't helping anyone." He placed the mug by his brother's elbow. "Drink this. It should make you feel better."

"I feel fine," he glowered, lifting his head from the table to throw his brother a glare. "An' where do you get off sayin' you understand? You got no idea. All you do is prance around givin' orders, playin' favorite son while I'm sittin' in some shit-hole gettin' plastered feelin' sorry for myself. I'm fuckin' pathetic here. Like some kinda sick joke. Mike's stupid puppet... Nobody knows who they're messin' with. I'm goin' soft sittin' around like this." Raph had a distant look in his eyes. "What I wouldn't give to bash some Purple Dragon skull right now."

Leo wanted to add. He wanted to share some advice. He wanted so badly to help, but he bit his tongue. If he said something, he might stop. It was a rare for Raph to open up like this, and whether this was the drinks talking or the sincerity of his brother's soul, he didn't want to ruin it.

"Thought I had nothin' back then, too, yanno. Wasn't fair, havin' to hide, havin' people run screamin' with not so much as a 'thanks'. Used ta bother me a lot, but I guess I got over it. At least then I had Casey and my bike, and… I dunno. This just ain't how it's supposed ta be. Sure, nobody's afraid. Say 'thanks' and all 'a that, but it's too damn _happy _here. It's like I got no purpose." He smiled crookedly. "Who woulda guessed I'd miss the scum of the Earth?"

There was a pause. Raph took a long, greedy gulp of his coffee before speaking again. "I jus' wanna forget it. I don't wanna remember no more 'cause we ain't goin' back."

That was the second time Raph had caught Leo off guard. He blinked and decided it was better to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"You know 'm right. Even Donny and the kid can't fix the thing and… don't say you don't think it. We're never goin' home."

"Don't say that. Donny can fix anything. He'll get the Portal working and we'll all be going home sooner than you think. You just have to wait a little while longer. You've seen how close he's gotten."

"More like I've seen how close he hasn't gotten. The piece of shit blew up today. He'll never be able ta fix it. And you know what?" Raph said, pointing an accusing finger. "I think Donny doesn't wanna go home. I think he's stalling. He likes it too much here. I've seen it, and don't pretend you don't see it too."

"Sure, Donny likes the technology and he likes working with Cody, but he would never do such a thing. It's Donny you're talking about, Raph. You're clearly not thinking straight. He wants to get home just as badly as you do. We all do."

A pang of guilt came with that last statement. Apparently Raph hadn't heard Mikey's ideas on the subject. But he wasn't about to stir the waters anymore then they already were. Mike could sail that ship on his own.

"I'm thinkin' better than you… whatever. I know you've seen it. You're just too goody-goody t' say it out loud." Raph was looking a bit dazed again. His eyelids were drooping, and he was slouching in his chair, still clutching the mug of hot coffee. "I went to the Lair today," he said glumly, staring into his cup. "Sucha mess. Everything's gone."

Then the fire flickered in his eyes once more. He pounded the table again with his fist. "I hate it!" He growled. His voice was gradually growing louder. "That kid! He cleaned the place out. Nothing's left. Everything's gone. Everything! He's got some nerve spyin' on us, bringin' us here…." Raph stood up quickly, knocking the mug of coffee off the table, shattering on the floor. It didn't seem to faze him. "I could bust his skull in so easy. He's the one we should be blamin' for— Whoa."

Raph cut himself off when he started to wobble, blinking blearily and grabbing the back of a chair for support.

Leo was at a loss. It took him a moment before he stood up, grabbing his brother's shoulders to steady him. "Okay, Raph. I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"'m fine," he mumbled, shrugging his hands away. "Can't go to bed yet, though."

Leo sighed. "What now?"

Raph was staggering out of the kitchen, using the wall for support. "Gotta take a piss," he slurred before stopping in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe and belching wetly. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna puke."

Well, wasn't this pleasant. Leo promised to never do such an ugly thing to himself. He just couldn't see the appeal in degrading oneself to all this bloodshot eyes and drunken staggering. But what he feared most was the loss of control. Raphael had spilled his guts to him back there. Leo couldn't imagine the things he would say in the same situation. He couldn't afford to be so slovenly.

But at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a little jealous. Raph always seemed to be able to throw himself at the mercy of his impulses without even a hint of shame. It was a selfish existence, but also a type of freedom Leo knew he would never understand.

As he guided his wayward brother into the nearest bathroom, he couldn't help fearing for his family's future. Things were changing, and that dark presence was growing stronger every day. It was as if the very fabric of space was shifting around them. It was an unnatural feeling, and only made Leo's dread grow deeper. This affair with Raphael was only a hint of foreshadowing the future. It was only a matter of time before it all fell apart.

He prayed Don would fix the Portal soon. Failure could very well cost them their lives.


	3. Chapter 3: The Wakeup Call

_EDITED VERSION 8/1/09_

Chapter 3: The Wakeup Call

The next morning, Don and Mikey were the first ones awake. That is, except for Master Splinter who was busy preparing the morning's tea. It was still an ungodly hour to be awake and functioning, at six o'clock in the morning. But every day Don and Mike would stumble out of bed, make themselves breakfast, and sit staring into nothing until training started at seven. Usually Leo would be just walking in the kitchen, still dreamy from his super-early morning meditation before bidding his good mornings and waiting for Raph to come staggering in. But today was different.

As Don and Mikey ate their cereal in silence, they couldn't help but give each other suspicious sideways glances at Leo's absence. Not having Raph at the breakfast table wasn't a big deal. He'd usually trod down the stairs at quarter to seven, just in time to avoid a lecture for being late and to share with everyone his oh-so-pleasant morning attitude.

When Leo came down at six thirty, Donny, Mikey, and Splinter all knew that something was up. He looked exhausted and tense, maybe even a little—guilty? When he sat down at the table with a sigh, Mikey couldn't help but pry.

"So what were you up to last night?" He asked, only half teasing "I didn't hear you come to bed until way late. Even after me. Could it be that you were… waiting up for a certain extra mean and grumpy brother o' mine?"

Leo didn't even dignify him with a response. He just stared into his tea with blurry eyes, waiting to feel more awake. He hadn't gone to bed until nearly five o'clock in the morning, and with barely an hour and a half worth of sleep, and he was dragging like a ton of bricks.

"He's in big trouble isn't he?" Mike asked again, grinning around a mouthful of cereal, which only earned him a look of disgust. Again, no answer. Mikey returned reluctantly back to stabbing his spoon into his cereal.

At seven o' clock, training began with no sign of Raph. The entire time, Leo had been way too quiet, even letting Mikey get in a couple of blows instead of the usual one sided shell-kicking. The successful training session had given Mike a bit of much-needed confidence. Even if his brother had stayed up all night waiting for Raph and his attacks reflected his exhaustion, Leo was an extremely talented ninja and Mikey was beginning to feel more sure of himself. He was making progress, finally.

Using the old weapons was such a relief. Mikey had spent all night in his room repairing his nunchaku when Donny came in to show him his new staff. And of course, being the awesome big brother that he was, had bought him brand-new chains for his chucks, too. During training, they had worked good as new. Leo had polished up his swords, and Don said he'd searched all over the city new, tech-less bo before finding one in a little shop selling traditional weapons in Chinatown.

So training had been just like the good old days, and much less complicated, especially without Raphael in the mix.

With his newly restored confidence and surplus of free time after training, Mikey decided to sleuth for answers about that night's mishap with Raphael. Leo had told him nothing over breakfast, and he absolutely hated being ignored. While Leo and Master Splinter were busy giving Cody his lesson on the roof, he crept up to Raph's room, praying that he wasn't making a terrible mistake.

Mikey had almost thought that Raph wouldn't be in there. There was a good chance he didn't even come home the night before. But peering through the door crack in the dim light, he could see Raph's outline—still in bed, covers pulled up over his head. Curious. Mikey decided to stir up trouble.

Grinning from ear to ear, he burst through the door as noisily as possible, letting it smack into the wall behind it.

It was times like these that reminded him- he was so freakin' _awesome_ at being annoying.

"Wakie wakie Raphie boy… you slept through training," he crowed in a sing-song voice. "You're in trooouble! Master Splinter didn't look too happy with you!"

From under the covers, Raph groaned something incoherent before stuffing his pillow over his head.

Mikey sat down hard beside the lump that was his brother, bouncing a few times just for kicks. "Come on Raphie, stop being boring!" He whined. "You were supposed to be awake three hours ago."

Raph stirred again, this time lifting the covers from his face. But when he realized it was Mikey, he moaned. "Go away. I got a big enough headache without you bein' here." He threw Mike one last glare before burying himself in the covers again. "An' don't call me that."

Mikey's eyes lit up with a new spark of curiosity. He immediately knew what his brother had been up to, but decided to toy with him anyway. "What were you doing last night _Raphie_?" He said, emphasizing the nickname withoug a hint of shame. He clucked his tongue like an old housewife just for the effect.

"Tryin' to think of ways to get ridda you," Raph snorted from under his blanket.

"I know what you did!" Chimed Mikey in that awesomely annoying way. "How did Leo not get mad at you?"

"I don't know. Now will you go away? _Please_?"

"Aww, just a while longer. I love these talks of ours. You're so pleasant in the morning," he teased. "You know we're not using the tech weapons anymore? You missed the whole thing."

"I don't care, Mikey. Go away."

"Okay then," Mikey said with a thoughtful grin. He stood, making his way toward the door "I'll just tell Sensei you're sick."

"No!" Raph bellowed with newfound vitality, kicking off the covers and scrambling out of bed. "No. Don't do that. I'm comin', I'm comin'. Just… just tell Sensei I'll be down in a sec." Raph winced, plopping back down on the bed, holding his aching head in his hands.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess…." He looked up at Mike blearily and sighed. "No, I feel like shit. If only I could get ridda this annoying ringin' in my ears." He paused and glared at Mikey, grinning deviously. "Oh, hey. Yanno what would make me feel better?"

"Um.. no?" Mikey did not like that grin. He didn't like it at all. He started fidgeting as his brother got up off the bed, still grinning like a weirdo as he salked closer.

Mike, ever the strategist, turned and ran like hell.

In a blink, Raph had roundhouse-kicked him in the back of the shell, making him stumble out the door and fall face-first into the hallway.

Raph slammed the door behind him and chuckled. "Ahh," he sighed to himself loud enough for Mikey to hear, "much better."

* * *

That morning, Don had decided to give the Time Portal a rest for now. Ever since the huge malfunction the day before, he'd been too discouraged to work on it. Building a fully functional time machine was definitely the most difficult project he had ever undertaken. But it was necessary. There was no questioning it—he needed to bring his brothers back home. There was no way to tell how much damage to the time/space continuum their presence had inflicted already, and every second longer was making more and more irreversible damage. Plus, the wait had obviously been eating Raph up inside.

Over the last couple weeks, his brother's initial shock at being transported one hundred years into the future had evolved into bitterness and depression. Raph had become even more explosive than before. Sure, Raph always had his problems, but he had never acted out towards Don like he had yesterday. Something was up. He had to talk to Leo before things really started getting out of hand.

He'd searched all over Cody's penthouse for Leo, only to find him up on the roof talking quietly to Master Splinter. When the two of them saw Don, they stopped to look at him. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the intrusion, and started backing away before Splinter motioned him over.

"It is okay Donatello. You are not intruding." He smiled thoughtfully, trying to coax his son from his shyness. "Are you in need of something?"

Don rubbed his arm nervously before he caught himself. "Um, actually, I wanted to speak with Leo."

Splinter nodded. "All right. My stories will be starting any moment now, anyways. So much has changed…" he mumbled, slowly shaking his head.

Once Splinter disappeared down the stairwell, Don approached his brother. "Leo… I need to talk to you."

"Mmm, so I've heard" Leo said dreamily. He still hadn't fully woken up since the morning, and his head felt heavy. He was leaning on the side of the wall, overlooking all the chaos that encircled the city below. Donny joined him, resting his elbows on the wall and peering down at the great expanse, the tangle of people and hover cars. _The technology _he thought _It's so… beautiful._

"Who would have ever thought we'd end up here," Leo sighed. His tired eyes were glazed with some unnamed preoccupation, yet still so serene.

"Yeah," Don replied. "It's hard to believe sometimes." The two brothers sat in silence for a while until Donny cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk to you about Raph. About everyone."

Leo looked distant, but Don knew he was listening. "Yesterday he came into the lab and trashed the place for no apparent reason. Now you know more than I do about what's going on with him. You're the only one he opens up to nowadays. It's been like living with a time bomb. You never know when he's going to explode. He always used to be so sensitive, but now it seems like he doesn't even need anything to set him off anymore."

"I talked to him last night. He's having a really hard time, Don. Sometimes I forget how things bother him. He has such a strange way of showing when he's hurt, I have a hard time reading him. I mean... I knew he didn't like it here, but I had no idea he was this upset about it. He was nearly… crying last night. I couldn't believe it." Leo shook his head sadly. "He came home drunk. He could barely stand. It's not like him to drown his problems like that… I don't even know how or where he got the beer. He told me he went back to the Lair. He was really upset about how everything was missing, how Cody had taken everything for his collection. He blames Cody for a lot of things."

"That's not healthy," Don mused. "He's probably been going back there whenever he disappears for hours."

"Probably. He's convinced himself that we're never going home. He said he wanted to forget everything. I think it hurts too much to remember."

"We haven't been gone that long. It's only been like… six months. How could he be like this already? He knows these things take time. I'm working on the Portal as much as I can manage. The technology is just so advanced…." Don sighed, resting his elbows on the ledge. "I'm way in over my head. Every time I think it's just right, something strange goes wrong with it. Like yesterday, the engine overloaded, but I could have sworn I had the energy regulators calibrated perfectly."

"I know you're doing your best, Don. There's no reason for you to blame yourself. This is just how Raph is dealing with things. All we can do is give him some space and hope he sorts things out on his own like he always does."

"Yeah, I hope," Donatello said sadly. But he couldn't help blaming himself. He should be working harder, faster. It needed to get done. He just wished it didn't take so long. For the first time in his life he was finding that the technology was hard to understand. Without Cody's help, he would never have been able to get as far as he has, but even then every step in the right direction was almost always followed by two steps back.

Then, he remembered the flicker of light, the window that had opened. He'd felt the air. He'd been just a breath away from home. But the near-victory only fueled his frustration.

Raph must have been watching. That must have been what had set him off. He had seen home too, and then it was painfully torn away. It was just too much for both of them to handle again. Next time, he had to succeed.

But for now, he would push it from his mind and start fresh tomorrow morning.

"So what have you and Master Splinter been talking about?" he asked."I've seen him speaking to you up here more than once."

"Oh, I don't know." Leo paused, took in a breath. "A lot of things. Things are changing, Don…. Do you know it's been nineteen years?"

"Nineteen. Wow. It seems like so long ago." Donny paused, the sounds of traffic filling the silence. "We've been through a lot, haven't we bro?"

"Yeah, we have."

"I just can't believe we're that old, nineteen. I guess I lost track after a while."

"Splinter never forgot."

A sound behind them snapped them back to reality. The two brothers turned to see Serling clambering up the stairs grumbling one thing or another."This robotic model is not manufactured to handle stairs. How barbaric," he fussed.

When the large robot reached the final step and straightened himself, trying to reclaim an air of dignity, he looked at Leonardo haughtily before delivering his message. "I have President Bishop on Telecom for you both," he said mechanically, turning back to conquer the stairs again.

"Wait."

The robot turned.

"Do you know what he wants?"

"I suppose he would like to tell you that in person, Master Leonardo," The robot chided.

The two brothers exchanged a confused look before following the clumsy robot down the stairs to answer the call.


	4. Chapter 4: The Terrible Truth

_EDITED VERSION 8/1/09_

Chapter 4: The Terrible Truth

When Leo and Don arrived in the conference room, they were greeted by Mikey, Cody, and Master Splinter, as well as Raphael, looking more miserable than usual. The conference room was large, housing an expanse of corporate tables and chairs all centered around a large video screen. The room was usually used for O'Neil Tech business meetings, but today was an exception. A red light was flashing by a nearby control panel, signaling a waiting call. Eagerly crossing the room, Cody pressed a button and the massive screen sprung to life, revealing the stern and darkly shaded face of Agent—now President Bishop.

"Turtles," The man started immediately, a worried crease set on his brow, "I need you down at headquarters immediately."

"Do you mind me asking what for?" Leo asked, a bit too polite for the look of confusion written on his face.

"That's classified information I plan to disclose once you have arrived. All I can say for now is that it's an issue of planetary security."

"But why us?" Donatello asked, mirroring his brother's confusion. Even as a so called "good guy", it was hard to trust that stony face without a bit of hesitation. He still had the cold voice, the same black glasses, the same unnerving stare as the Bishop that had tried to destroy them in the past. Constantly he had to remind himself that things had changed in the future. Bishop had become a very well-meaning and respected man not only on Earth, but through the entire universe. And now with this urgent call to duty, Don had to admit, he was both weary and painfully curious.

Bishop adjusted his glasses, but remained stern, voice expressionless. "Let's just say that this particular issue is in need of your unique…expertise."

"We'll be there," Leo said firmly. Bishop was obviously not going to give them any answers this way. If they had to come to him for the whole story, they would.

"You have five minutes," Bishop ordered flatly. Then the screen suddenly snapped into darkness.

"What do ya think that bonehead wants from us?" Raphael grumbled irritably, looking understandably pale and groggy. Right now, he would sell his soul for a bottle of aspirin and an extra ten hours of sleep. But now that _Mr. President_ was kind enough to drag him out of bed and halfway across the city with a hangover, there was no chance of that happening. This was going to be hell.

"I don't know, but it has to be important enough for him to call us," Leo replied, putting a plan of action together while glancing around the room. "Cody. Get us a vehicle, we're leaving. Guys, I'll meet you downstairs." Everyone nodded and made their way out the door. Leo stayed behind. "Raph," he called, "can I talk to you for a sec?"

Raphael was lagging behind, halfway out the door when he caught himself on the door frame and turned back. From down the hall, they both could here Mikey hooting something around the lines of "Oooh, Raphie's in trou-ble!"

Raph winced, praying to whatever god gave a damn that Leo would hold the lecture for tomorrow, though he knew he probably deserved this one.

"How do you feel?" He asked slowly.

Raph's eyes widened. _How sweet,_ he thought,_ it's like he's pretending he cares. _He then tried to shoulder his way past, but to no avail. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "Like I'm gunna puke," he huffed.

"Hmm, nice," Leo said slyly. He was trying to appear sympathetic. Really, he was. But after last night, it was hard to hold back that I-told-you-so expression. "I wanted to give you this, since you missed out," he said, handing his brother a package wrapped in brown cloth. Raph took it with a confused expression. "I noticed you haven't been carrying your tech sai"

"Yeah, so? They just don't feel right to me. They're all right, I guess, but they don't feel the same."

"Then I hope this will make you feel a little better," he said with a thoughtful smile before walking out the door.

Raph unwrapped the package, revealing a newly polished pair of sai. _Real _sai, his sai. They looked good as new without a trace of rust or anything. He passed his hands over the cool metal, the brand-new pommel wrapped in leather chord. They were... beautiful. "Hey Leo?" He called, walking quickly out the door to catch up. He paused for a second, finding his words. "Thanks."

At that moment, he had more admiration for his brother than he could handle. He'd acted like such a scum bag last night, but Leo still had done this for him. It was the best gift anyone could ever give him, and he felt like he barely deserved it.

Leo shrugged. "No problem."

With a nod, Raph placed the sai in his belt, and they did feel right. It felt better than right as he made his way down to meet his brothers and answer Bishop's call. They had only three minutes left to go.

* * *

When Cody's black limousine arrived outside PGA headquarters, they were met by a not-so-welcoming party. A crowd of identically dressed men wearing black suits and glasses that blotted out their eyes, escorted their guests inside. The others followed without question, despite the heavy automatic weapons each guard was clutching.

"Wow…" Don croaked, "Bishop really means business."

"When does Bishop ever _not _mean business?" Mikey almost squeaked with fright. He was practically shaking in his shell, thinking of dissection tables and chunks of turtle meat that would spray all over the place from one blast of those crazy laser guns. _It's ok, _he told himself._ Breathe. No dissection today, nope. Turtle's off the menu. Bishop's a good guy now, and as long as you don't get these psychos mad, they won't blast you to itty bitty turtle bits. _Still, his skin crawled.

Raph followed closely behind, his hands already moving to his sai, his eyes darting from one guard to the next. "I don't care what he means," Raph growled. "All I know's I got a bad feeling about this."

The four were taken through large glass doors and down a winding maze of hallways until they'd reached two tall, oaken double doors. Inside, Bishop would be waiting. Leo pushed the door open slowly to reveal Bishop standing at the head of a room that looked much like the O'Neil Tech conference room. The dark black void of a blank telecom screen covered the entire wall behind him while a massive, heavy curtain shrouded the other two.

"Ahh… turtles," Bishop said slyly, examining his watch, "right on time."

"What do you want Bishop?" Raphael asked bitterly.

"Raphael. So pleasant to see you again." Bishop glanced over at Leonardo through dark glasses. "You may want to tell your brother to hold his tongue," he said icily. "I have an important business proposition that just may be of interest to you."

"And what if we don't want your damn proposition?" Raph spat. Leo sent him a warning glare.

"You have no choice," Bishop laughed. "This is a matter of planetary security and the government gives me the authority to take whatever means necessary to ensure the safety of this planet. Besides, you haven't given me a chance to speak. I assure you, I won't be wasting your time."

"Okay Bishop," Leo said finally, "you've got our attention."

"Good," he smiled coldly, straightening the tie of his black suit with satisfaction. "As you may know," he began, "as President of the Pan-Galactic Alliance, I am under obligation to take any action against threats that may oppose allied planets. For years now, a man calling himself 'Emperor Xerxes' has been attacking planets left and right. He currently three planets from the outer rim under his control. These planets are unrelated to the PGA, and were of minimal importance to us until now. We don't know where he came from or how he's come to power, but inside sources tell us that he his gathering his forces and is heading next for the Utrom Homeworld."

"The Utroms?" Don asked. "What would he want with the Utroms?"

"That still remains unknown, but sources have informed me that he is planning complete genocide. He plans to exterminate every every male, female, and child on the planet. From the information I have received, I have also been made to expect that once the Utroms are conquered, he plans to move on to Earth."

"So what can we do?" Leo asked, slightly panicked, but his eyes would not show it. "Why us?"

Bishop walked over to the telecom and pressed the flashing button. Immediately, a familiar face flashed upon the screen.

"Mr. Mortu!" Donny and Mikey exclaimed, almost in unison.

"When I received the call from Mr. Mortu," Bishop began, "I had offered my help to him immediately. I had known for a long time that the Utroms and the people of Earth were closely connected. What I didn't know was that you four were also closely connected with Mortu."

"Turtles…." Upon the screen, Mortu's face was astounded. "I did not know that your lifespans were so long. I have to admit, I was surprised when President Bishop explained to me about his 'special agents'. It has been so long, my friends."

Raph let out a snort. "Huh," he sneered, throwing a glare at Bishop, "special agents."

"Mr. Mortu," Leo said, "since the last time we've seen you, we were transported one hundred years into the future."

"You are indeed full of surprises," the alien said, smiling sadly. "And it seems you have arrived not a moment too soon. The Utroms would greatly appreciate you on our side, Leonardo. All of you. Since all your help decades ago, allowing us to return to our home planet, you and your brothers have become somewhat of a legend. It would be an honor to fight alongside you once again."

"You have our word, Mr. Mortu," Leo vowed. "We are honored for the opportunity to help you once again."

"Touching… really," Bishop said coldly. "But we must get on with the details. We're running out of time."

"Yes, of course," agreed Mortu. His pink alien flesh seemed to have paled a bit, his expression grim as he turned to the image behind him. It was a living map, three dimensional and life-like—an image of a cold, blue planet. He continued. "What you see behind me is the planet Aurelia. Population: two million nine hundred thousand, four hundred and seventy one. Civilization: primitive. 32.65 light years from the Utrom Homeworld, lack of formal government. Here is where Xerxes was believed to have made his first advances."

The image behind him changed into a horrifying display of destruction and gore. Limbs scattered the dirt-covered streets. Dark spatters of blood stained building's walls. A pile of corpses scattered along the roadside. Everywhere where there had been life, simple, prosperous life, carnage remained. The land was soaked in the blood of its people.

Donny tried not to groan at the sight of burning corpses piled on the roadside. They looked like children. Deep gashes had been cut into their stomachs, revealing intestines and gathering flies. Some pulsed with maggots. He clutched his stomach, exchanging glances with Mikey, who seemed to be holding up just as well.

Mortu looked at the four turtles from the other side of the telecom, eyes filled with great sadness. "And this is what was left behind." He gestured to the screen behind him, trying not to look. He had seen these images far too many times. "The photographer that had been documenting the aftermath was later killed on his mission."

Michelangelo shut his eyes tightly, trying to stamp out the images burned into his brain. The children… the blood…. It was just too much.

"It was his first attack, but not his last. For over a year, these crimes have remained undocumented, unknown to the PGA. The civilization of Aurelia was peaceful and solitary. The massacre had gone unnoticed and unchecked until it was far too late. Few escaped. Fewer survived. Survivors: one hundred and seven. Lives lost: two million five hundred thousand and nine. Refugees have been scattered onto neighboring planets. Some still remain amongst the rubble."

"Why would he do such a thing? These people posed him no threat," Leo said angrily, fists clenched. There was little else that could fill him with impenetrable rage than blind, meaningless injustice.

"Resources," Bishop said flatly. "Aurelia is known for its metal mines. Its craftsmen and miners were the best in the universe. I have reason to believe that this—" He gestured to the screen, still flashing image after painful image. "—was simply in the name of procuring metals for weapons and armor. The attack was our first hint that Xerxes was building and army."

"_Simply."_ The word rolled around in Leo's head. _The loss of lives is never simple. Never._

Another map of a planet flashed upon the screen, his time small, white and covered with ice. "The prison planet Bulgeron 4," Mr. Mortu began again. "Population: two million, seven hundred and sixty two. Government controlled via the Pan-Galactic Alliance. 25.17 light years from Utrom Homeworld. The first attack on government-controlled planet, direct violation of Pan-Galactic law. Release of one million, nine hundred thirty thousand, one hundred sixty eight of the most dangerous exiled criminals in all the multiverse. Forty thousand two hundred and one government employees were killed."

Don was thankful there were no pictures accompanying the death toll. Each number had been a person. Dead. Murdered for no apparent reason by the hand of a man calling himself Emperor. He remembered the image of the corpses and his stomach churned again.

"This was Xerxes' first blatant attack on PGA controlled bounds. He had somehow managed to slip past planetary security measures, land a ship unnoticed by all security grids, and launch a mass attack on government employed officials, killing many and freeing a large number of criminals. This is solid evidence that he is indeed building an army of exiles, and he is working from the inside out."

A hard line of frustration furrowed deep into Bishop's brow. He was enraged not only at the injustice, but at the government's lack of ability to stop the enigmatic force that was Emperor Xerxes. They had underestimated him. They had heard the rumors, but never acted. Now, it was too late. He had failed. He was President and he had failed. Millions were left dead, all because of his ignorance.

"Two months following the raid on Bulgeron 4," Bishop continued, his voice growing hoarse against the strain of trying to keep his composure. "yet another prison planet was attacked with the same impending results." He glared harshly at the turtles, a mixture of rage, frustration, and nausea painted upon thier faces. "I intend for it not to happen again. Since the attacks, I have decided to take a more proactive approach, trying to predict his next move."

"The desert planet Atun," Mortu began again from the telecom, another image appearing behind him, this time a large, red planet. "Population: unknown. Civilization: unknown with no formal government. It stands as an uncontrolled planet 1.73 light years from Utrom Homeworld. Sources have led me to believe that this is Xerxes' next destination. If I am correct, he is planning to use the planet as a base, a landing point from which to control his army from afar. Once Xerxes reaches Atun, the Guardian Army has planned a rendezvous at the location."

"If we can defeat Xerxes on Atun," Bishop added, "we can eliminate the threat before more lives are lost."

The four brothers stood in shock. It was easily the biggest thing they had ever gotten themselves into. It wasn't just New York. It wasn't just the world. This was the fate of the _entire universe_ resting on their shoulders. Billions of people were counting on them, and their lives were in their hands.

Leonardo's heart fluttered. _How could they possibly expect so much? _He thought with a small panicked gasp. It was so much to take in— all this horrible truth. This was war, cold, unavoidable war.

"But what can we do?" He asked. "There's only four of us. You can't expect…"

"We're not expecting you to do anything alone," Bishop interrupted, walking to the other side of the room where a heavy grey curtain blanketed the expanse of the wall. "Xerxes' army consists of three planets worth of skilled warriors. His forces consist of millions of the most hardened criminals from across the galaxy. It would only make sense to build a force that is comparable."

Bishop pulled on a chord in the corner of the room, letting the curtain flutter and fall to the ground, unveiling his most secret of weapons. The turtles took a terrified step back. Yet they knew what lay beyond the glass meant hope, the terrifying hope that they just might have a fighting chance.


	5. Chapter 5: Stark Beauty

_EDITED VERSION 8/1/09_

Chapter 5: Stark Beauty

Behind the plated glass overlooking a warehouse far below the conference room, a solemn army stood. An entire sea of soldiers—countless, identical, and armed to the teeth—awaited their orders. They stood in formation with stony faces, silent and unmoving as chess pieces waiting on a board.

"Who are they?" Don gaped.

"Clones," Bishop answered dryly, "from my own DNA."

"Amazing…."

There were so many, faceless and stoic behind their plated armor. They marched in tight formation like herds of well-trained cattle. For cattle they were, not people, but cattle. These men had never seen the light of day or never felt the soft breeze upon their skin. They knew not what it was to smile. They knew nothing of rage or happiness, of sadness or joy. In all reality, they were nothing but weapons of war, marching together in human form, carved from human flesh and bone. They were the Pan-Galactic army. They were the galaxy's only hope.

"This kinda evens the odds," Mikey said with a desperate grin. By now, the chances for carefree humor we're growing slim. Not even he felt like laughing. The troops that marched below them in their darkly plated armor had such stark, terrifying beauty. It was enough to strike silence into each of their hearts as they watched mesmerized through the glass window panes.

"I thought the Pan- Galactic alliance was supposed to be a peaceful organization," said Donatello skeptically. "I never knew it had an army."

"Let's just call it our little secret," said Bishop, smiling slyly. "Government funding doesn't come easy to those wanting to create an army of their own clones."

"So no one knows about this?" Leo said quickly. "There must be somebody who knows. How can you keep something this big so well hidden for so long?"

"True, Dr. Stockman helped me on this little… project of mine." Bishop looked at Leo with a hardened expression. "But as for hiding things, I do believe that you know much about the importance of keeping things away from the eyes of the public."

Leo knew exactly what he implied, and it was a low blow. _Keeping our family a secret was nothing like this. _Leo thought to himself. _We did it out of necessity, for our safety. No one understood what we were. They thought we were monsters. Letting our presence be known could have gotten us killed. _Leo paused. He could feel the sharpness of the hypocrisy in his thoughts sinking in. _Or maybe it was the same._

"These troops are our only hope against Emperor Xerxes and his forces," Bishop said fiercely, breaking the tension of silence that had built itself around them. He turned toward Leo who was still standing captivated by the window. "You asked me what you could do to help this cause. This is what I need you to do. The army is your responsibility."

"My responsibility?" questioned Leonardo, savage terror creeping into his eyes. "I can't lead an entire army."

"This is what you, all of you, are needed to do. We have your word, do we not?" Bishop asked. Leo could imagine the cold stare he was receiving through those dark, impenetrable glasses.

"You have my word. My brothers and I will do our best to protect the Utroms and to protect the lives of the innocent against this… monster."

"Good," Bishop said softly, a small, expressionless smile crossing his lips for a fleeting moment, only to fade back into the usual hard frown as quickly as it had came. "It is your duty to prepare these troops for combat. They already have the basic skills. They have been instructed on elementary combat tactics, standard battle formations, and weapons handling. These clones have been bred for optimum stamina, strength, and intelligence. They have the necessary discipline and motivation to learn. It is your responsibility to smooth out the edges, so to speak. Train them in the combat techniques of your choosing. I don't care how you do it, just do it and do it right."

Bishop looked from face to solemn face. For the first time in his life, he saw that not only fear, but raw terror behind their eyes. In the past, he had struck fear in them, but he had never seen such deep, rotting terror. "Boys, I give you soldiers" he continued "It is your duty to make them warriors."

"How long do we have?" asked Leonardo quietly.

"I'll give you two weeks."

A hard lump of panic welled in Leo's throat. Unable to speak, all he could do was swallow it down.

Another dark, icy smile crept upon Bishop's face as if it had been chiseled from stone, this time lingering upon his ancient lips. "Prepare yourselves, generals," he said sharply, nearly laughing to himself, "it's going to be one hell of a ride."

At the end of the meeting, the four brothers clambered out of the massive oaken doors like a group of battered refugees. There was so much to soak in, so many terrible things going on in the world that they were now responsible for.

_Two weeks, _Leonardo thought. _How can we possibly do all this in two weeks?_

But his thoughts were quickly interrupted as he nearly ran into the person standing outside the door. He locked eyes with the boy, his hard, stubborn stare penetrating his eyes… Casey's eyes…"Cody!" shouted Leo at the not-so-pleasant surprise. "What do you think you're doing?"

A mischievous smile crept onto the boy's young face. His blue eyes shined more brightly than ever. "I'm just missing out on all the action!" he said stubbornly. "Why don't you guys ever invite me to these things?"

"You were supposed to wait in the limo," Leo said flatly. Now he knew how Master Splinter felt when one of his brothers got into trouble. At his age, Leo probably would have done the same thing.

"I know, I know. But what fun is that? I can protect myself, you know," the boy said stubbornly with hands on his hips, looking rather proud of himself.

"How did you get in here, anyway?" asked Mikey from over Leo's shoulder. "There were all those M.I.B.s standing right out that door just a second ago."

Everyone turned to look at Mikey. "M.I.B.s, Mike?" Raph asked, rolling his eyes. He had to prepare himself for this one. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Men In Black," said Mikey matter-a-factly. "You know, like the movies. Duh."

"Whatever," Raph groaned, turning back to Cody. "How did you get in here, kid?"

In all truth, he could care less how the kid had gotten there or even why he came in the first place. All he wanted to do was divert the attention from Mikey before he took his joke to the next level of irritation.

"I just gave our friends a little gift for their travels and they kindly stepped aside for me to…uh… listen in." He smiled sheepishly at his poor choice of words.

"You bribed them," said Raph curtly.

"Yeah," said Cody, shrugging his shoulders with indifference, "so?"

"So!" Leo interjected. The kid was in for another one of good old Leo's famous lectures. "So you shouldn't be poking your head into matters that don't concern you. I just know you'll be getting ideas from all of this, so keep it out of your head, whatever you're thinking. This is bigger than you, Cody. You need to stop acting like a child and do what you're told."

"I don't need to listen to you, Leo," said Cody, "I can do what I want."

Don, Mikey, and Raph fell silent, that is except for the taunting "ooooh" that came from Mikey. Cody was in trouble. They all knew what happened when somebody defied the 'Fearless Leader.'

"You are fifteen years old, Cody! You can't do whatever you want!" Leo roared. "You go around paying people to make them do whatever you want them to, but it won't work that way for us. I don't work that way. When I instruct you to do something, I do it for your own good. Acting like this won't ever make people stop thinking of you like a kid, because you're acting like a child."

"I am not a child!" raved Cody, looking like he was about to attack Leo at any moment. He was so stubborn, just like his grandfather. "And I'm going to Atun with you whether you like it or not!"

"You think you're coming with us?" Leo laughed without a hint of humor. "I don't even want to go there. For god sakes, you're getting in way over your head! You need to stop overestimating yourself and look around you. This is war you're talking about, not some play date in the park for you to try out your new toys! This is bigger than you, Cody, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I can do it, Leo! I can prove it! What about all those battles I fought with you, all those times I helped you out? You gotta know I can do it!"

"You can't," Leo said darkly.

They were making such a scene. The people passing by them in the hallway, dressed importantly in suits and ties all took time to stare as they walked past. Donny was trying his hardest not to be utterly embarrassed as he caught the stares, but Raph was leaning against the wall, thoroughly enjoying the show. It was a rare occurrence for him to see his brother lecturing someone else for a change. But, with Mikey's recent slip-ups and his new apprentice to worry about, Raph had been able to avoid the butt end of his lectures for some time. He had no idea how he had escaped the night he'd come home drunk with just one stern talking to, but he was definitely glad for it.

"Why won't you just let me prove it to you? I don't understand! I can do whatever I want. I don't care what you think!"

"What I think is what's best for you. You may not be used to people giving you orders, but what I say I say for a reason."

"Then give me one good reason why I can't come with you!" Cody screamed.

"Because your sensei forbids it!"

The echo of Leo's final words resounded through the silence. It was the first time any of them had heard anyone call him that, none the less himself. It was true that Leo had been instructing Cody in more things than just his ninjitsu, and that during the past few months he had been watching over Cody much like his sensei, but Master Splinter was the Sensei, not him. Raph gave a sarcastic grunt as he turned and walked back toward the door the way they had came. Cody's mouth moved soundlessly in retaliation, but Leo put a hand up, halting his words before he could utter a sound.

"I'm sick of talking about it, Cody, we all are. We need to go home and think about this for a while before any of us can make any decisions. Just… let's go home. I don't want to talk about it any more."

Cody nodded, but he did not agree. He was determined. He would do anything in his power to make it up to them, for the curse he had subjected them to by bringing them into this terrible future. If that meant putting his life on the line for them, so be it. They were the best friends he ever had and the only family he'd ever known. _I'm going to make it up to them,_ he thought to himself, _no matter what it takes_.

The next morning the brothers had made their way to PGA Headquarters once again. Ever since the confrontation with Cody, no one had spoken a word about what they had heard or seen the day before. There was just too much to sort out in their minds to even want to talk about it.

Once they arrived in the conference room, they were immediately confronted by a disturbed-looking Bishop, frowning sternly at them while he pressed the flashing red button to open the telecom for Mortu to join the conversation.

"Turtles," Bishop began, "there has been some urgent information gathered from the allied planet Tarsinon. It appears that government stock houses in the planet's main province Kalcín have been raided over the night. Right under our noses!" Bishop's clenched fist pounded the heavily polished table in the center of the room. He looked like a rabid animal ready to strike.

"But… how could this have happened?" mused Don. "The Kalcínians have the most advanced technology in that part of the galaxy. It would have been impossible for a raid to go unnoticed."

The three brothers threw a look at Donatello, who caught their gazes and smiled back sheepishly. He had obviously spent the night doing his homework.

"Because he's working from the inside!" spat Bishop in disgusted frustration. "I've tried to follow him, to calculate his next move. I don't know how I didn't see this coming. I should have known he would have stopped there. He needed battle ships and weapons… ammunition…"

"It appears that our miscalculations have hurt us gravely," added Mortu. "Kalcínian technology is incredibly advanced, even more so than that of the Utroms. In the wrong hands, it could lead to terrible destruction."

"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Leo, desperate to do something, anything to make it stop.

"I'm afraid we can do nothing but follow our original plan," replied Mortu. "Xerxes has been becoming increasingly harder to track as he advances. He obviously has many followers in high government standing that have been extremely difficult to identify. We are doing our best on our planet to identify these offenders before they can give him even more advantage. You, my friends, need to concentrate on the offensive side of the battle."

Leo hated this. He hated receiving more bad news and not being able to do a thing about it.

"He's right," said Bishop, regaining his composure. "We need to focus on the army, and we need to get our end of the bargain finished before it's too late. The Utroms can't do this alone."

"Yes," said Mortu sadly, but quickly snapped free of the emotion to address his audience once again. "But I do have one piece of information that may put your mind at ease," he continued. "The ships stolen from Tarsinon were tracked traveling toward coordinates near the planet Atun before the signals disappeared. Chances are more than likely that Xerxes will be using the planet, as we have predicted."

"This is good news. Thank you Mr. Mortu," replied Bishop as the telecom image snapped back to darkness. He turned to the turtles, studying them as he spoke. "You have thirteen days. You better hope that he doesn't get there before we do."

The next thirteen days were spent preparing Bishop's army for the imminent battle ahead and with each passing day, their forces grew stronger. At the end of their two weeks, the four turtles had gradually grown accustomed to their role as generals.

Leonardo had decided that by splitting up the team, their instructions would be more useful, and to Bishop's pleasant surprise, he was right. Leo himself had been put in charge of teaching defensive techniques of combat. Raphael was more concerned with the offensive. Donatello often found himself working side by side with Dr. Stockman in the lab, improving the troop's armor and weapons technology, while Mikey provided all the help he could give, as long as it wasn't in the lab.

As the days began winding down, the ticking of the clock became more final for each of them. The time was quickly approaching for them to leave Earth and face their destiny among the stars, wherever it may lead them. Bishops massive space craft, known simply as "Carrier" was being packed and loaded by the time the turtles had given their final lesson. The troops had been skilled pupils, as trained and battle-ready as Bishop had described, but now they were more ready than ever. Bishop's training paired with the turtles' knowledge of ninjitsu was proving to be a lethal combination. When the day of their departure finally arrived all too quickly, they all knew that they were as prepared as they could ever be.

After a long from Cody and Master Splinter, the four brothers banded together once again to face the most evil foe they had ever faced. Knowing not what the future held in store, they made their journey beyond the stars, hoping, praying, that they just might return again to the small blue planet in the distance that grew smaller still, being swallowed by the encroaching darkness and fading behind them into the bright horizon filled with stars.


	6. Chapter 6: No Turning Back

**Chapter six took less time than expected. Enjoy, my beloved readers, and thank you for the responses!**

* * *

Chapter 6: No Turning Back

The ship's engine churned and hummed as it glided on its course through the penetrating blackness, making enough sound just to notice, but not enough to keep a person awake. But the four brothers, who were usually sound sleepers and were able to sleep through even Raphael's snoring, found themselves wide-eyed and sleepless, listening to the gentle hum of the churning engine far below them. It wasn't the noise that kept them awake that night, but the painful clawing each held inside of him as they turned over and over in their minds what evils lay waiting for them on the dusty red planet.

No one had talked about it in fourteen days. Even while training the troops, any mention of the battle yet to come never left PGA Headquarters. Neither of the brothers had given themselves the chance to put their thoughts into words, but in the pitch-black room, the silence told more than anything.

The brothers had been given a room on the ship far away from the troops' quarters. It was cramped yet cozy with four bunk beds built into the wall and a small sitting area complete with a television and sofa.

For the first time in a long time, the brothers shared a room, and in the awkward quiet, primarily the lack of Raphael's reverberating snores, betrayed to one another their wakefulness. Each feigned sleep, but true sleep never came. The night brought instead to them the vivid, restless half-dreams of a worried mind.

Donatello had tried and tried for so long to keep his eyes shut, but time after time he found himself staring out into the darkness, trying not to imagine what horrors would soon come to pass. He wished he didn't have to fight. He wished he had never even left the lab. If he had been strong, he would have refused to go. He would have stayed in the lab with Cody, working on the Time Portal, trying to bring his family home. The lab was where he belonged. There he was more useful to his family than he was going off and fighting wars. He had always known he was by far the weakest ninja in the family, preferring to use weapons of the mind over weapons of wood or steel. At least in the lab he could create instead of constantly being forced to destroy.

After the piercing thoughts had haunted him long enough, he couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Psst… Leo" he whispered. He knew that his brother hadn't been sleeping.

Leonardo had been lost in thought, grateful that the quiet had given him time alone to think. Donny's sudden whisper in the night came of no surprise to him. He knew that his brothers were facing the same internal demons as he, and it had been far too long since anyone had talked about it.

"Hmm?"

"You sleeping?"

"No."

"Me either" whispered Donny. His voice barely carried over the soft sounds of the engine. He knew that there was really no need to whisper, Mikey and Raphael were probably lying awake just the same as he had been, and that they were probably listening. "I've just been thinking, about so many things..." the shaking of his voice made him pause and swallow hard, hoping it would steady. "I was... thinking about how much I hate this. I... hate this, Leo."

"I know. You've always hated it Donny" he whispered solemnly into the dark. "I'm sorry we got you into this mess again, I'm sorry we all got into it. But that's just how life always seems to go. There's always something unexpected around every corner." Leonardo suddenly remembered an old Japanese proverb Master Splinter had always quoted. "It's like Master Splinter always says, a coursing river does not fight against the lay of the land, it simply flows in the direction it is carried until it reaches the sea" he paused. "We haven't reached the end yet, Donny. Life is still throwing us curves. Someday you'll be able to stop fighting and invent your heart out all day long, but that time hasn't come yet. Until then, we just have to roll with it and hope that it leads us to where we want to be."

"And where do you want to be, Leo?" asked Don.

"I don't know. I guess I haven't thought of it. I guess… as long as you guys are happy, I'm happy too."

"That's it? You don't have a dream?" said Donny with concern.

"I guess not."

Then, a dim light suddenly turned on. Don and Leo blinked as their eyes adjusted to the change. It was the reading lamp over Raph's bunk, proving Don's theory that he wasn't really asleep.

"Give me a break, Leo" he grunted. "You know exactly what your dream is. Your dream is to be just like Splinter."

"Oh, give it up, Raph" he spat "You're just having trouble believing that another person's happiness can make someone happy because you're always miserable."

"Yeah, whatever. You keep pretendin' that you're so great and you're so humble, but the truth is you're just as selfish as the rest of us. I've seen you these last couple of months. You've really been livin' up to your name, Splinter Junior. Who do you think you are, trainin' that kid, given us orders. You're our brother, not our father, so stop actin' like it. He ain't dead you know."

There was a deadly silence as all eyes fixed on Raph and then moved to Leo,

"That's not why I do it" he whispered shakily, diverting his eyes from his brother's stares.

"Then why do ya do it!"

"I do it because I have to!" he roared. By then all four of them had stopped pretending to be asleep and were sitting upright in their bunks in the dim light. Leo was poised for an attack and Raph was just itching for a fight. All the anxiety, all the tension that had been building since Bishop's call was hanging on that very moment. The room was thick with it.

"No you don't" challenged Raph with venom creeping into his voice.

"Yes I do, because Splinter won't be here forever. Ever since we got here, Master Splinter has been having visions… visions of death hanging over our family. He isn't always going to be there for us, Raph. He asked me to look out for you."

"So that's why you been actin' so high 'n mighty all of a sudden" Raph retorted.

"Yeah… I guess. But that's not the point. Master Splinter told me to lead you guys, and I gave him my promise. Once he's gone, I intend to keep that promise." Leo looked distant. As he played the long conversations between he and his Sensei over in his head, he couldn't help but notice something he hadn't before. Leo looked to each one of his brothers, eyes wide in fear. "But…" he stammered.

"But what?" Raph demanded.

"But what if Splinter's visions weren't about _his_ death. Maybe they were about… _our _deaths."

What tension that remained from Leo and Raph's argument quickly turned into fear, panic. Master Splinter's visions were never wrong, only their interpretations of them were sometimes not quite right. Before the war broke out, Master Splinter had interpreted his visions in one way, but now the circumstances had changed. Now it was more apparent than ever the severity of the mission that lay ahead of them. _They could lose their lives over this._

"So you're saying one of us could die?" Mikey asked with fear in his eyes.

Leo nodded slowly. It was painful, but it was true. Death was hanging over them like a black cloud ready to strike one of them… any of them… all of them down. Leonardo vowed to never let it happen. He refused to let anything, or anybody take his brothers away from him.

* * *

The next morning the turtles had found that they had been given some time to themselves to rest and prepare for the battle to come. They would be landing on Atun later in the evening and had to save their strength for whatever may be waiting for them there.

Neither Bishop nor Mortu knew where Xerxes and his army had disappeared to. Since his last raid on Tarcinon, he seemed to have completely disappeared. Their sources… whoever they where… kept returning time after time with no new information. The last thing they had known was that the war party was headed toward Atun, but had not yet reached it. Satellite surveillance of the planet constantly turned up empty.

Bishop's plan of action was land safely and set up camp with no sign of opposition and wait for Xerxes to arrive. They could only pray that he hadn't somehow found a way to dodge their surveillance and reach the planet unnoticed. It wasn't a completely impossible notion. After all, he had managed to do it four times before.

Bored out of his skull with nothing better to do than watch TV stations in languages he had never heard of, Mikey instead decided to explore the carrier.

Walking down the narrow steel corridors, the ship felt hollow and empty. The troops had been put into hibernetic sleep for the two days it would take for them to reach Atun, so most of the population of the ship was suspended, unconscious in some greenish looking goo. The thought of it made him shiver. It was like being in a real life episode of the X-files.

Once he had decided he had wandered enough, he let curiosity get the better of him. He stopped in front of a threshold and gathered his courage. Slowly putting a hand on the door he pushed it open slowly, quietly, only a crack, to meet face-to-face with a dozen or more clones floating in their green fish tanks. A bubble emerged from one soldier's mouth and traveled to the top of the container. Mikey let out a girly scream and slammed the door shut behind him, his pulse still pounding in his ears.

After regaining his composure, he ventured farther down the winding hallway, determined to reach the end. Turning a corner, he soon found it, stumbling upon a threshold of two metal double doors with a sign that read above it "cargo." _Oooh the cargo hold, _he thought to himself _this could be interesting._

Trying to open the doors, he soon found that they were locked. He quickly looked around the area to find something to pry them open.

_Come on. Come on. There has to be something…aha! _Withdrawing his nunchuku, he twirled it in the air before striking the panel box that had been forbidding his entry. He laid down a hard blow, smashing the box to pieces, causing it to spit and spatter with electricity, then sigh a breath of smoke. The doors creaked, parted slightly, then settled miserably on its tracks.

Mikey pressed his face against the narrow crack and peered in. He could barely make out the outlines of towers of stacked crates and boxes filled with ammunition, which interested him very little. But then, on one far wall of the room's great expanse, he saw something that struck him. With his spark of curiosity rekindled, Mikey jammed a nunchuku into the crack and wrenched the door open further, making a space big enough for him to push them back and wriggle his way through.

Once that had been done, Mikey wandered among the innumerable heaps of weapons and artillery like a child lost in a toy store until he came upon the figures that had caught his eye. They were huge, standing at least twenty feet tall and ten feet wide with plated armor six inches thick. Upon each heavy robotic arm was a laser cannon bigger in both height and width than he was.

_This is serious machinery _he thought_. Raph would get a kick out of this. _But Mikey tried not to think about what kind of damage his hot headed brother could cause behind the wheel of one of those big war machines.

There was at least twenty of them standing side by side in the cold, silent room like a row of waiting soldiers. They each were identical, looking like living monsters that just might awake from their slumber and spring to life at any moment. As Mikey walked down the row of robots, he felt an eerie tingling in his spine. He studied each of them, the thick armor, the oversized cannons. Then he came to a droid that didn't look like the rest. It was much shorter and instead of the thick black plated armor, its body was covered in shining silver chrome. It looked oddly out of place and strangely familiar. _Hmm_ he pondered _that one doesn't look like the rest. It's like I've seen it before, but where?_

Before he could place it, something behind him caught his eye and made him nearly jump right out of his shell. He turned around quickly, only to see emptiness and artillery crates towering behind him.

"Helloooo?"

His echo was his only reply. _But I swear I saw…_

Close behind him, a pile of delicately balanced crates came crashing to the ground with an earth-shattering noise, spilling their contents onto the concrete floor. Mikey jumped as his heart skipped a beat and then began fluttering at a maddening speed. Hesitating, he finally decided to investigate once the room fell back to silence once again.

He crept over to the pile of splintered crates as quietly as he could manage, barely breathing for the chance that it might make a sound. He stepped gingerly over a pile of machine guns and sawdust that had spilled onto the floor from one of the fractured crates. But there was no sign of anyone there.

"Ha ha, very funny" he chimed "poke fun of the innocent turtle" he wandered through the crowded maze of crates, looking around the room again., searching the narrow alleyways for any sign of life. "Raph," his voice echoed "this isn't funny."

Then he saw it again, a flash of purple running from one crate to another. He sprinted over to where he had seen it, leaping high and landing delicately atop a fragile pillar of balanced crates without disturbing a single one. "Ha!" he laughed victoriously "I found you… Cody?"

Down below him at the base of the tower of crates stood Cody Jones looking like a criminal that had just been caught in the act.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Mikey, please!" He begged. "You can't tell Leo."

"Can't tell me what?" came an icy voice from behind them. Mikey nearly fell off his dangerously balanced tower. He looked down at Cody at one side of the wall of crates, his brother on the other. Luckily, Leo hadn't been able to see the newly discovered stow away.

"Leo, I…uh… was just talking to myself" said Mikey with a desperate grin as Cody ran and buried himself deeper into the jungle of crates.

"I don't think you're supposed to be in here, Mikey. They keep these doors locked for a reason."

"Yeah, well, um… I was just… exploring."

"Then maybe you should go explore somewhere else."

"Oh okay. Sorry Leo" he stammered "I'll be leaving now." Making his way across the hold, he tried to coax his brother back towards the broken door. Both Mikey and Cody breathed a sigh of relief when Leo turned and walked away from where the boy had hidden. But then, Leo froze in his tracks.

"Cody" he called over his shoulder without turning back "come with me."

* * *

"How could you be so stupid!" Leo roared. Mikey had never seen his brother so angry before, and that was saying a lot.

"I'm not being stupid" Cody spat stubbornly "I just want to help. Why won't you let me help you?" Frustrated tears dotted his eyes despite his furious expression. "I can do it. I brought the Turtle X, so you wouldn't have to worry."

"I don't have to worry! This isn't a game, Cody. This is the real thing. You're going to get yourself killed out there. What were you thinking!"

"I…I just wanted to help" he stammered, looking at the ground, his face slowly turning a darker shade of red.

All of this reminded him of something, and Mikey almost smiled when the memory struck him. Not to long ago, he and his brothers had done almost the same thing when he was not much older than Cody. They had followed their Sensei to the Battle Nexxus, nearly getting themselves killed, just because they wanted to help. At first, Master Splinter had been angered and horrified, but after a while, he accepted and supported his sons' decision to join the tournament at such a young age, and Mikey had ended up winning. It was true that Cody wasn't as skilled as he and his brothers had been at fifteen, but Mikey was beginning to think that the boy just might deserve a chance.

"Leo" Mikey interjected "Maybe its time you let the kid help, just a little."

"Well its not like we can send him back home. I guess we don't have a choice." He looked back to Cody sternly. "But once we land, I want you to stay someplace safe and out of sight and there will be no fighting unless absolutely necessary."

A light of excitement lept into the boys eyes, chasing away the tears. "Oh thank you Leo. Thanks! I promise it'll be ok. I promise you won't have to worry about a thing!"

As Leo watched his elated student bounce down the hallway with a satisfied grin spread wide across his face. He only wished that the boy's words were true. He wished he didn't have to worry, he wished that everything would be ok, but it wasn't going to be. There was a bad feeling in the air and it shook him to the very core.


	7. Chapter 7: Land of the Enemy

_Here it comes, the beginning of the end. So brace yourself, dear readers, for you never know what terrible secrets the future will hold._

* * *

Chapter 7: Land of the Enemy

Later that afternoon, Mikey and Leo returned to the room. When they walked in the door, Raphael had the TV blasting, because according to him, wrestling was good no matter what language you watched in, but you had to have the volume turned way up so you could really hear the punches. Donatello was sitting on his bunk tap-tap-tapping on his laptop with his brow deeply furrowed in concentration, doing some research, no doubt. When they walked in the door, making room for Cody, Raphael tore himself away from the TV just in time to notice the intruder. He turned off the TV and scowled. "What's he doin' here?"

"He stowed away in the cargo hold," said Leo sharply. Donatello glanced up from his computer screen at the sound of anger in his brother's voice.

"But how did he get in? I saw the place was crawling with guards when we boarded," Don quipped.

"Guards don't stop this little guy," laughed Mikey, roughing up the boy's red hair. Cody winced in displeasure, but took it in good humor.

"You paid them off again, didn't you," Raph growled coldly.

Cody smiled an apprehensive little sideways smile. "Let's just say my father knew people down at the loading station."

"That's Casey's son, right?"

"Yeah."

Raph snorted at the notion. "Huh," he said roughly under his breath, "figures."

"He even managed to smuggle Turtle X on board without Bishop even knowing," said Leo. On the outside, he was displeased, but secretly, he was also a little impressed at the boy's fierce tenacity.

Suddenly, the floor began to quake beneath their feet. Don reached over and pulled up the shade to the small window beside him. Looking out, the four brothers and their human counterpart could see the bright red planet looming towards them. "Just as I thought," Don said quickly, "right on time. We're reaching Atun's gravitational field. It may get a little bumpy from now till landing."

Five pairs of eyes crowded around the tiny window, watching the swirling dust storms of red, orange, and grey. The immense dunes and mountain cliffs were just becoming visible on the surface. They would be landing soon, and the battle would begin.

Each of the turtles could feel the familiar sensation of hot fear and panic boiling in their stomachs. For the first time, they were finally witnessing first hand the reality of what they were facing. Atun was growing larger, pulling them mercilessly into its clutches with and insatiable hunger, inviting them in to whatever horrors it may hold in its endless red deserts and swirling orange storms. And each of them watched, unmoving, as the ground grew nearer and even the air turned a filthy, rusty brown.

After several minutes, the shadow of the landing starship grew larger and then disappeared underneath them in the light of the scorching suns. The dust and sand the hovering ship stirred released the wrath of two hundred sands storms all rolled into one. For a while, all the window could reveal was thick, swirling dust. The ship hovered inches from the ground and finally landed with a soft thump on a large rock plateau on the edge of a canyon formation. The dust settled and cleared, and the turtles saw before them the endless red horizon crowned by twin suns, one dim and the color of rust like the sandy cliffs and dust, the other yellow, bright, and penetrating.

"I guess this is it," Leo breathed heavily, adding to the finality of the moment.

The four brothers looked at each other and silently made for the door to find Bishop and await their orders.

"You have to stay here," Leo said, placing a firm hand on Cody's chest, preventing him from following them out the door. "Everything you need is right here in this room. Don't leave it unless I tell you to, got it?"

"Got it," Cody nodded, not knowing how long it would take him to get tired of foreign TV and sneak out of the ship, thirsting for an adventure. He guessed maybe two hours at best.

Then, the turtles disappeared through the narrow threshold and into the echoing steel hallway, leaving him behind once again.

* * *

All through the metal corridors, life bustled, revealing to the brothers just how many troops had made their journey in a state of hibernetic sleep. Many of them, still damp-haired and pale from the cold, carried wooden crates from the cargo hold out into the dry desert air. Walking though the hold door toward the source of the commotion, they used the still working double doors next to the ones Mikey had recently wrenched open with an apparent lack of finesse.

A huge door at least eighty feet high and sixty feet wide had opened from the side of the hold, and the clone troops were busy as ants unloading the goods to set up base camp. They would be abandoning the ship soon, and all power and technology would be cut off. The ship itself would be disguised with a mass cloaking device so not to give away any hint of their presence as Xerxes approached from the stars.

Crate after wooden crate was hauled onto hovering platforms driven by a single clone, loaded to near overflow, and shipped off a distance away to the signified camp area where red canvas tents, looking more like rocks on the sides of the canyon ridge, were already being pitched. This would be their home, their way of life for as long as it took for Xerxes to reach Atun. It could take days, it could take years, but the fear of the unknown struck them all. As long as he didn't come too soon, it all would go according to plan.

The four brothers banded together in a tight group and made their way past the bustling workers down toward the camp on the red rock ledge.

"Looks like we're roughing it the old fashioned way," Raph grinned happily, finally free of all that future techno-garbage he had recently been subjected to, even if it meant he had to be waiting for the most evil force ever in existence to land right outside his front door. But he was just trying to be optimistic.

The brothers reached the campgrounds and walked amongst the tents, now looking more like a city of red, irregular-shaped rocks dotting the cliff ledge. There they found Bishop giving orders to troops unpacking delicate looking machinery and disappearing into the largest of tents located at the center of the camp.

"Ah, turtles," he said cooly, "I hope you traveled well."

"We did, thank you," Leo replied, being maybe a little too polite.

"I'm glad you're here. I have your first mission already planned. But first, I need to talk to Donatello."

Don stepped forward, looking like he was about to walk to his execution, and let Bishop escort him into a smaller tent pitched along side the larger one. When he emerged several minutes later, he was holding a small metal object and he was grinning from ear to ear. "Look what I've got" he said with almost giddy excitement, pressing something at the top of the object, causing it to unfold and assemble itself into a miniature airplane. It was no bigger that three feet across, four feet wide, and Donny held it out before him as if it were a trophy he had just been awarded and he was about to give his acceptance speech.

"Cool toy," Raph said loudly.

"Oh, but it's not just a toy," smiled Don, his eyes alight like a kid at Christmas. "It's a Predator, a spy plane."

"Oooh cool!" exclaimed Mikey, reaching out to touch one of its fragile wings. "I want to fly it!" Donny pulled it away just in time.

"This technology was new during our time, but now it's old hat. It's still incredibly fragile, though. Maybe I should fly it, Mikey."

Mikey pouted as his brother started the tiny engine and released it into the air. Like a black- winged vulture, it glided slow, steady circles high above their heads. With a certain brand of ecstatic glee that only came to him when he was around something technical, he pointed out the features of the control to his brothers.

The control itself was a simple black box with a series of switches and levers that can maneuver the plane in every direction. "If you see here," Don said, pointing to a blank screen at the top of the remote, "you can receive instant video transmittion from the plane's optic sensors from even hundreds of miles away!"

Grinning widely, he pressed a button and the screen switched on. An aerial image of the bright red canyon glittered on the screen. "And as you can see, the plane is so thin it's barely visible. It's flying over our heads as we speak."

The brothers looked up to the sky, but even with their well-tuned senses, they could not see or hear the plane.

Donny zoomed on the image on the control, revealing a crystal-clear image of the four of them gathered on the canyon's edge. "I can see you, but you can't see me!" he laughed with glee.

Raph didn't like the idea of being watched without seeing who was doing the watching. He turned and walked away, feigning indifference as he neared the canyon edge and looked down into its deep crevice. It plummeted for miles. The bottom was invisible and cloaked in thick, black darkness.

"Hey Raph" said Donny. "Do you see that big boulder on the other side of the canyon?"

He squinted across the canyon side. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I want to try something."

Moments later, the boulder erupted into a million tiny fragments, seemingly struck by nothing. Donny giggled with exhilaration."It worked! Man this thing's got more fire power than I expected!"

Raph watched the pieces of rubble careen down the cliff face, falling and falling without ever striking bottom. "Damn."

"Ok, now to put it to the real test," Don said, squinting at the tiny screen. Mikey and Leo were peering at the screen too, staring closely from over his shoulder. Don turned and gave them a look. "A little space, please," he asked quickly. His brothers immediately stepped aside to join Raph on the canyon's edge. "Bishop asked me to fly this puppy over the mountains over there. He thought he had seen some movement over there when we landed." He gestured to the faded grey mountains looming on the edge of the horizon.

"It can go that far?" asked Leo, shielding his eyes from the twin sun's rays as he looked off into the distance.

"I sure hope so," Don smiled, "or this thing would be pretty useless."

After over an hour of waiting under the glare of the scorching suns, Donatello was just about to fly his new toy back home when he spotted something on the monitor. "Guys… you should come have a look at this," he gasped, eyes wide with bewilderment.

"What did you find, Donny?" asked Leo, standing up from sitting Indian-style upon a nearby cracked red boulder.

"I'm… not sure."

"I thought this planet didn't have no civilization on it," Raph chimed in as he peeked at the monitor.

"It…doesn't. Its only people live in caves in the mountains, but nothing like this."

The image on the monitor revealed to each of them a picture that was both amazing and terrifying. A massive fortress carved from the rock of a mountainside stretched to the sky with imposing glory. Its peaks and walls jutted menacingly in all directions. No sign of life stirred from around it, but something about it was menacingly dark and forbidding.

"That… shouldn't be there. None of Bishop's satellite photos ever came back with images like this. They had all been just images of sand and rock. But this… it's just not right." Don looked over to his youngest brother staring wide-eyed at the video screen.

"Mikey, go get Bishop and tell him to come take a look at this."

"Aye aye captain," Mike said quickly, jumping up and giving a clumsy half-salute with a goofy smile on his face. He then turned and ran for Bishop's tent.

"Figures," Raph said curtly, "Goofball can't even keep a straight face when he's lookin' evil square in the eye."

They all laughed quietly in spite of themselves and waited for Mikey to return with Bishop. When he returned, Bishop looked at the monitor with a worried crease furrowing his brow. "I want you four to go and investigate. Get as much information as you can and report back to me immediately."

"But it could take hours to walk there, or days!" Mikey complained. Leo threw him a stabbing look that told him to cut the whining.

"And who told you you had to walk? Follow me."

They followed Bishop back to the cargo hold where the clone troops were still unloading crates and boxes, but the cavernous room was much more empty now. Only a few boxes, along with the immense battled droids remained. But in a far corner where Mikey hadn't bothered to explore, four machines were parked.

"Oh baby!" Raph exclaimed with excitement. Finally, a good omen. He ran over to one of the bikes and took his seat, already testing out the grips on the handle bars. "Get me one of these!"

"Take the hover cycles," said Bishop. "They'll be able to carry you over the desert quickly and largely unnoticed."

"How do you-" Leo began politely, but was quickly interrupted by Raph kick-starting the engine, revving it loudly, and careening out of the cargo hold full speed ahead.

As Raph breezed through the cargo hold door, Donatello was returning from the cliff ledge with the spy plane in hand. He had stayed behind to land it, and now was caught by surprised as his brother in red circled around him at top speed riding something that looked like a motorcycle."You're missin' all the fun, Donny. Go get a bike and tell the other boneheads to follow me!"

Moments later, they were flying through the desert back towards camp with Raphael taking a distant and unprotested lead. They were heading back towards the mountains and the canyon cliffs. Raph grinned to himself. To get to the mountains, they had to find a way across the canyons. He knew that his boring brothers would have probably tried to find a long way around it, but he had a plan. Instead, he rocketed straight toward the plunging gap full speed ahead.

"What is he doing?" Leo yelled over the roar of the engine to Don who was riding close by. Don shrugged with a worried expression on his face.

Raph urged the engine forward, as fast as it could manage. He felt like just a blur jetting toward the great, endless dark expanse of the canyon. To his left he had seen a place where the gap was narrow, but still spanned at least twenty feet across. He gunned it straight toward the gap, took a deep breath, and drove over the cliff edge. He hung in mid air for a moment that seemed like an eternity, trying not to look down to the consuming blackness below. Then, with a sigh of relief, his wheels touched the other side and he sped off toward the mountains in the distance, his brothers following closely behind.

After only a few minutes of blasting through the desert at break-neck speed, trying to keep up with Raph who was obviously enjoying every minute, the four brothers reached their destination. Don had spotted a massive dune that had collected on the other side of the mountain with the spy plane. The brothers parked their hover cycles at its base and scaled the massive hill of twisting sand. It took them a while to get to the top because the sand slipped from underneath their feet, forbidding a proper foot hold, and spilling in soft cascades down the side of the dune toward the hover cycles. When they finally reached the top they found themselves face-to-face with the ominous fortress carved from stone. The sight of it was stark and eerie, making them shiver at the tingles coursing down their spines.

"Do you see anything?" asked Michelangelo in a shaky voice.

"I don't see nothin' but a huge empty castle" replied Raph quietly.

"Shhh" Leo urged quickly, pointing at the tower's doors far below them. "I don't think it's empty."

Sure enough, the massive stone doors quivered and then burst open, unleashing an endless battalion of marching soldiers, trudging in a line ten men across through the gaping cavern door. Static fear raced through them, hot adrenaline pumping through their veins. Their hearts fluttered as they looked down to the scene unfolding below. They rolled onto their backs and slid in the sand further down the dune out of sight.

Mikey's eyes were wild with fear. "I thought there was nobody here yet."

"That's what we thought," answered Don gravely in a quivering voice, betraying his fear, "but I guess we were wrong."

Leo held up his hand, giving the signal for silence, and each brother froze. He pointed over to the left where two figures were trudging over the top of the dune. With nowhere to hide, the three brothers looked toward Leo who whispered "follow my lead."

"What was that?" one of the men said loudly, pointing his blaster rifle at a stream of falling sand at one side of the dune.

"It's just sand," replied the other, brushing him off. But they decided to walk down and take a look anyway. The pair trudged through the knee deep sand to where they had seen the cascade fall. One of the men poked the barrel of his rifle into the dune.

"See, nothing" his partner assured him.

But within seconds, the two men were surrounded. With a burst and swirl of sand, four creatures appeared to be born from the dune. They were outnumbered, but did not let go of their weapons. One of the creatures had a pair of swords, each pointed at one of their throats.

"I wouldn't shoot, if I were you" Leo hissed through his teeth, digging the point of his katana a little further into each of the men's necks. "I bet I can slit your throats faster than you can pull that trigger."

The men looked at each other and held more tightly onto their guns, their fingers stroking their triggers nervously.

"I would take his word for it if I was you," growled Raph from behind. "He ain't playin.'"

The men dropped their guns.

"Get on your knees," Leo ordered coldly as Mikey and Don picked up the men's rifles."Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, poking one of the men in the throat with his katana blade once again. He choked and then answered.

"We… live here. This is a… research station."

"Ok," Leo growled, turning to the next man,. "the truth now."

"W…we're keeping watch," the man stuttered, his eyes closed and his hands up in the air. "Just…please don't kill me."

"Who are you working for!" Leo roared. A small trickle of blood dripped from the sword tip, just below the man's jaw.

"We serve Emperor Xerxes!" the other man growled, thumping his hand quickly over his heart. He spat on Leo's feet, but he didn't flinch. "And he's going to crush you and your little friends like the filthy bugs you are."

The man flashed a viscous grin on his filthy face, revealing a row of yellowed, grotesque-looking teeth.

"And what are you doing here!" growled Leo roughly.

"We were waiting for you poor bastards," the man smiled. But then his face grew pale and distant as a line of red blood was traced across his throat. Both men gurgled and collapsed, eyes rolling into the backs of their skulls. And Leo returned his swords to his sheathes. No time to clean them now. It was time to leave. So they turned and picked thier way down the dune side, leaving the men there to bleed out upon the sand where their bodies would bake beneath the light of the twin suns and be claimed by the desert. Far below, the roar of the hover cycles rumbled into the air, disappearing over the red horizon.


	8. Chapter 8: The Battle for Everything

Chapter 8: The Battle For Everything

The engines of the hover cycles roared as the four brothers entered base camp, looks of horror plastered across their faces. Without a word, they burst through the canvas door to Bishop's tent. Seeing the urgency in Leonardo's expression, Bishop stopped what he was doing and stood to meet them in the half-light.

"You found something" he said slowly, a cold look upon his face betraying the bolt of terror racing through him.

"Xerxes is here and he's waiting for us," Leonard answered grimly, but without indulging in detail. The blood on his hands could speak for itself.

"How is that possible? I never found anything that hinted his presence on this planet. All the surveillance, all the measures that were taken. It's simply… impossible," he said angrily, his words like gravel in his throat.

"But it's real" Leo stated flatly, the heat of battle, the racing pulse lives taken taken by his own hand, still tainting his voice. "We have no other choice. We need to finish this now."

Bishop looked from face to solemn face of his four generals, the creatures he had hunted for so long, the band of brothers he had fought battle after meaningless battle. The one, Donatello, he had nearly killed during the outbreak of Stockman's mutagenic virus, because of his mistake. The years following after, he had hunted them like dogs, taking hold of the city and scouring the sewers without mercy until one day, he had stumbled upon their home. It had been empty as a tomb. Abandoned.

But now they were standing here before him, and so much had changed. He had changed, the entire world had changed. He could no longer channel the hate that had once burned within him. He could no longer see them as hostile mutant creatures, but people, allies. They were strong, honest, noble warriors, and despite all the evils he had done to them, they had forgiven him as much as they could. They had put their lives on the line to help his cause and now here they were, so many light years from home, awaiting his orders.

"When we reached the fortress, we ran into two of his sentries and got some information out of them," Leo quickly informed. as all the color drained out of the man's face. Bishop had seen the blood spattered on the turtle's face, on his hands, and knew what he had done.

"They said that Xerxes has been waiting for us all along, and from the looks of it, he's been there a long time. That's his fortress down there by the dunes, where he hides his army."

"How could this have happened!" Bishop roared, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He raised his fists and brought them down hard onto the wooden desk before him, smashing it into fractured splinters from an ugly crack straight down the middle.

He took a deep breath, straightened himself, and faced his comrades. "Well then," he said coolly, adjusting his glasses, "if that's what he wants, that's what he's going to get. Tomorrow morning we will assemble the troops. We no longer have the element of surprise, so our only choice is to face him head on."

* * *

The night ended all too soon as four warriors stared restlessly into the dark, listening to the desert wind howling through the canyon cliffs and the night noises of the camp echoing all around them. When the twin suns began to shed their first light onto the horizon, marking the end of yet another cold, sleepless night, the troops had made their trek across the haunting desert and assembled under the dim light of the red, dusty morning at the foot of the ominous monster dune. The brothers looked on while Bishop prepared his forces for battle, knowing that the corpses of the two sentries were laying somewhere buried in the sand, their bones picked clean by vultures.

"Soldiers" Bishop barked as he paced the front lines, dressed head to toe in black plated armor. The howling wind stirred the sand around them as he spoke, threatening a storm. "Your moment of glory has come to pass." he screamed against the hungry wind. "The time to face your destiny awaits you on the eve of your birthright. Remember your lessons well, men, and carry them with you far into battle. Do not forget your orders. Fight to the death. Do not stop when things get complicated. Do not hold back. Do not turn away. Even in your final dying breath, you will go down fighting." He stepped atop a red boulder and faced his army, his brothers. "So, men, I ask. Are you prepared?"

"We are prepared," roared the troops in unison, mindless drones ready for slaughter. The sound shook across the mountains like a crashing desert wave.

"Then how will you fight?"

"To the death."

"And when will you stop?"

"Never."

The veins in Bishop's neck bulged as he screamed, his voice carrying out upon the wind over the endless sea of black-shrouded soldiers. "Never Back down, never surrender!" he screamed with all his might, raising his fists in the air as he uttered his final battle cry.

And with that the sea of men ebbed and flowed like the great biblical floods across the parched desert sands, stirring up a mighty golden dust storm as they went, tearing up the towering dune to face the army that lay waiting at the bottom. Behind them, towering figures of battle droids ran like mythical beasts after the heard, amongst the people, brandishing their heavy weapons, hungry for the kill.

The brothers were among them, their pupils, their students. They were there for that last exhale when time stood still, the sickening moment of raw silence, and then the collision of bodies, the clang of weapons and armor, the firing of shots. A massive surge of warriors, falling, colliding, retching, gasping their final breaths in the twisting, bloody chaos. And amidst the carnage, the brothers forgot themselves, leaving their true selves far behind them, keeping kind smiles and gentle mannerisms locked, buried deep within them, hearts hardening like stone, a savage blood lust blazing in their eyes.

Leo withdrew his weapons, those deadly twin swords, slashing his way through the crowd of limbs and bodies and breath, the showering of blood. He found the enemy there, feeling its hot breath upon him, he began to hack away, to kill without mercy, for these men had no honor, they defended a killer. This time, he would make the villain pay his share, blood for blood. The sand beneath his feet grew thick with it, and he, dripping with it. It bathed the cold steel of his swords. He, taking life after miserable life of these criminals unleashed from the bowels of hell.

A large beast, muscled and fierce, towering high over him, casting a shadow with teeth bared, made his move toward the turtle. Leaping high into the air, Leo brandished his weapon, twirling it high over his head, he met his foe. With a stream and river of blood, the beast's head parted with its body, causing him to tumble down, parting the sea of battling men around him as he fell, the head rolling across the sand a short distance away. But Leo did not celebrate the victory. He had lost sight of his brothers. clambering up upon the massive body of the felled he peered over the battle scene and found himself surrounded on all sides by twisting bodies and the sounds of death, the flash and clang of weapons. A gun went off. He leaped to the side, narrowly escaping its laser.

Where he landed, he met his brother, sai dripping with blood, his eyes wide and menacing, howling like a rabid animal thirsting for more. The blood on his skin had formed a crust of rust brown dust and grime. Only his eyes had remained Raphael.

Raph looked towards his brother as he pierced his weapon through an enemy's skull.

"There's a lot of them," Raphael growled through his teeth, withdrawing his weapon and striking down another foe.

"Where are the others?" Leo shouted over the deafening sound as he battled two opponents at once, each wielding their own sword-like weapons. He hoped Raph could hear him, because that was all he truly cared about.

"Behind you," Raph answered over his shoulder. And sure enough, Leo saw Michelangelo, nunchuku twirling in the desert sky, striking down one opponent after the other, showing no sign of mercy or weakness. He stood shell-to-shell with Donatello, concentration knotting his brow as he swung the bo staff, colliding with yet another alien skull.

"Follow me," shouted Leo to Raph through the strangling blood-tinged air as he made his way to his remaining two brothers. He leaped into the clearing they had created, surrounded by blood-thirsty villains, countless and nameless, they slowly closed them in. Raph came barreling in after him, sticking the tip of his sai into the gut of another victim as he passed.

And there the brothers fought, back-to-back they launched attack after bone-crushing attack, lying flat countless victims that did not move or speak, but lay motionless and bleeding at their feet, becoming flattened and trampled by the endless sea of war. After an innumerable number of attacks that seemed to last for eons, the brothers found themselves quickly growing tired as the impeding wall of their opponents showed no sign of growing thin. Leo, then, had an idea.

"We need to get into that fortress," he roared over the sounds of the dying and the wounded. "We need to face Xerxes and end this!"

He couldn't help but fear the worst as he looked at each of his brothers, studying each of their faces, remembering each of them well. There was no way to know know if they would be alive when he returned.

"Stay here!" he screamed "Don't move. Promise me!"

"We promise," shouted Donatello, striking a particularly ugly-looking opponent square in the skull where it left a bleeding dent just above his temple. He crashed to the ground the turtle's feet with an earth-shaking thump.

Then Leo stole away, running as fast as his legs would carry him through the mass of bodies, narrowly escaping being trampled by a battle droid barreling through the sea, swinging its massive arms and sending the bodies of enemies flying through the air, dead before they even touched the ground. He ran through the sands, leaving it behind him, climbing up the dune and sprinting across the hot sand, the light of the twin suns bearing down on him like a burden, the sand scorching the soles of his feet. Tears crept from his eyes, running in slow, trailing rivers cutting through the grime and blood smeared upon his face. He ran back towards the carrier where he knew the boy would be waiting.

"Cody!" he roared with all the power in his lungs. "Cody!" Twisting through the maze of narrow corridors, he felt them crushing down on him. He reached the room door and kicked it open. But the room was dark and quiet. "Cody!"

No answer.

Breathing quickly, pulse pounding hard in his ears, Leo ran back toward the cargo hold were he hoped the boy would be. It was his last chance. He needed to get back to his brothers before it was too late. And sure enough, there he stood, admiring his battle droid in the silent darkness of the hold.

"Cody, please, I don't have time to explain" he huffed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Leo?"

Leo had forgotten that under all the grime, it would be hard for anyone to tell him apart from one of his brothers. He gave the boy a quick nod. "Please. Get Turtle X and follow me. I'll explain on the way there."

The boy stood a little bit taller now. He nodded to his teacher, his friend, and obeyed his orders gladly. He swung into the cockpit of the battle droid, thirsty for whatever adventure lay ahead. He steered the huge droid out of the gaping hold door and into the desert suns toward the sound of the battle raging in the distance.

* * *

Leo could barely breathe as he pushed past the mass of bodies, trying to find his brothers. He passed the carcass of the decapitated beast floating like an island in a pool of its own thick blood. He knew they couldn't be too far off.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he came upon them, still fighting for their lives, mostly unharmed. But Mikey had been cut deep, nearly to the bone on his left arm. A trickle of bright blood ran sluggishly towards his elbow, but he kept pushing on. Leo gave him a sad smile. He was so proud of his brother. He had worked hard to overcome the obstacles he had been facing just weeks before and now, it had finally paid off.

"Mikey, your arm is hurt."

"Yeah that guy really got me good. But I'm ok," he said to his brother in mid attack.

"Cody's coming," he shouted. "I've got a plan." His three brothers stared at him with wide eyes showing through their grime-covered faces. "He's going to clear a path so we can make it to the fortress."

Immediately, they understood. They nodded their heads and kept attacking until they could see the shining chrome droid barreling like a freight train towards them. As Turtle X ran past, Cody gave a smile and a wave from the cockpit. He was obviously enjoying the carnage as he cleared the path for his friends, cutting through the bodies and throwing them to one side or the other like Moses parting the red sea, a cursed sea that flowed red with blood. The turtles abandoned their post and ran after him, toward the great red tower where the coward Xerxes would be waiting.

Drawing closer, they neared the great stone doors that stretched higher into the sky than their vision would allow them, shrouded in the storming cloud of dust that hung heavily above, blotting out the sun like the pitch darkness that followed death.

Cody maneuvered Turtle X to clear the space in front of the door. Climbing the carved stone steps to the entrance, Leo looked up into the dust-filled sky and calculated the final phase of his plan. "Cody!" he called. "Once we get in, you need to shoot the cliff ledge above us. The rubble should close off the door so you can get outta here. After it seals us in I want you to run and never look back. Just keep running until you reach the ship."

"But you'll be trapped inside!"

"Listen to me! It has to be this way! Just promise me you'll do it. Promise me!"

The sadness in Leo's eyes was almost unbearable to watch.

Slowly, Cody nodded from behind the glass dome. "I promise, Sensei."

His job was almost done. He watched the last of his friends push open the heavy stone doors and disappear into the darkness to face their doom. He wished it wouldn't be the last time he'd ever seen them again. If they died, he would never forgive himself. The thought of hopelessness nearly brought him to tears. Cody looked out into the tangled mass of raging warriors, the endless pools of blood, and sighed. Raising his robotic arm up to the cliff face above, he let out a shot that echoed through the blood-soaked valley. The mountain rumbled and the boulders began sliding down, careening towards the bottom.

Starting his rockets, the blue flame carried him high above it all as the landslide barred the door, sealing his friends' fates along with them. But instead of turning and running as he had been ordered, he lingered there for a moment longer, waiting for the dust to settle. "Take care of yourselves guys," he murmured, hot tears stinging his eyes, "and thank you."


	9. Chapter 9: Blood From a Stone

Chapter 9: Blood From a Stone

When the heavy stone door swung shut behind them, stamping out the last stream of light that trickled into the cavernous darkness, the brothers stood and waited in the quiet. Not even the sounds of the battle raging outside penetrated the walls as they listened, hard, for that final rumble of falling stone, the sound of their fate being sealed.

And then the ground shook and the cascade of falling boulders began, slamming into the doors beside them, echoing through the tower's haunting vast emptiness.

Leo looked at his brothers in the shadows, motioning to a door that lay half-open across the great expanse. The warm glow of firelight spilled from its crack and onto the cold stone floor. The brothers crept from the shadows like shadows themselves to press their bodies silently against the wall near the door and listen to the voices that came from within.

"Master…I… bring you information from the front lines" said a man's voice, desperately out of breath. "We're losing men fast, sir, and I don't know how much longer we can hold them."

From where the brothers stood, there was no sign of the person the man spoke to, the one he called Master. But the voice that replied was cold and metallic, full of violent rage. The sound made their skin crawl as they listened. _No, _they told themselves, stamping out the idea from their minds, what their fear wouldn't let them believe,_ it couldn't be._

"What do you mean we are losing!" the voice boomed from within.

"T...there are four, four turtle creatures, sir. They're killing every man that tries to attack them. I saw them heading towards the fortress and I ran to report right before they could enter."

"Come closer, general" said the chilling voice again, more soothing this time. "Do you not know how I gathered this army?"

The general did not answer.

"I gathered the strongest by weeding out the weak. Do you not agree?"

"I…I…"

"You will pay for your failure to me."

"Please! NO!" the man shrieked, but his screams were replaced by the gurgling sounds of a dying man choking on his own blood.

Leonardo looked towards his brothers with sadness and fear. It was time to make their move before anyone else could suffer at the hands of this cold-blooded killer. He saw it in their eyes, fingering their weapons. They were ready.

Drawing his swords with the satisfying sound of metal, he burst through the door, flanked by his brothers, ready for anything.

"Xerxes!" he bellowed "Stop hiding like a coward and face me!"

But the figure that sat before them upon his massive stone-carved throne just stared back at them, as silent and unmoving as the body of his slain general that lay bleeding at his feet. There was a terrible heart-stopping silence as if time itself was standing still. The sound of it was deafening.

Electric terror rose through every corner Donatello's body. His stomach lurched and twisted sharply. He clenched his plastron and tried to hold it back, the fear and sickness that bubbled inside of him. But it was too much. _They were going to die._

It was… him, the character from their nightmares in both sleep and wakefulness. All these years they had thought he had been gone forever, sent into the stars, banished upon his ice-acteroid. But there he stood before them, frozen in the silence like a statue forged from the darkest steel.

And the silence still permeated the room, surrounding them, crushing them. They all stood frozen, locked eye-to-eye upon the creature from the darkest corners of their imaginations. Stronger, fiercer, then they remembered, blood-lust in his eyes behind the metal mask. He was… the Shredder.

"You!" his voice boomed from behind its metal tomb. The sound of it echoed through every inch of the fortress's dark caverns. "You should not be here! How is this possible?"

Heart pounding loud in his ears, raw adrenalin pumping through his veins, Leo flashed his katana and made his reply. "Oh it's possible. We've come for you, Shredder."

Raphael chimed in, lowering his voice into a fierce growl and crossing his sai menacingly. "One hundred years and ya still haven't learned. Your reign a terror is over, and this time, ya won't be makin' it out alive."

"Lithos!" bellowed the Shredder standing from his marble throne. "Attack these miscreants. I want the life squeezed out of them!"

From somewhere behind the throne, a tower of a beast charged from the shadows. Like a pillar of living rock, it stood thirty feet high, barreling towards them with mighty earth-quaking power, howling like a wolf. It swung its massive arm at Michelangelo, missing him by inches.

Seeing the challenge at hand, Leo shouted his orders. "Don, Mikey, you take care of blockhead over here, Raph and I will deal with Shredder."

The Shredder laughed a hideous cackle at the sight. "You truly believe you can face me? Do you not remember the last of our battles? It was a product of simple luck that you escaped that ship alive. I will not make that mistake again. This time, you will not have Karai to save you."

Leo's eyes narrowed, venom creeping into his voice as he gripped his twin katana. "Let's end this, Shredder."

Leo and Raph took their weapons and charged head-long towards him with an echoing war cry. Raph struck first, hitting him hard, digging his sai deep into a spot between his shoulder blades, trying to fry the technology of the robot armor. Leo struck next, swinging his swords, meeting the metal talons of his gauntlet. The clang of metal rang through each attack, time after time.

Raph's sai didn't seem to faze him. As he battled Leonardo's swords. In his frustration, he growled and delivered Leonardo a kick to the plastron that made him stumble backwards. Taking advantage of the moment of freedom, he reached his hand behind him and grabbed hold of Raphael who was still trying to find a weak point in the armor with his sai. Shredder took him in his clutches and threw him across the room where his head slammed hard onto the stone wall.

But Leo did not hold back. He regained his footing and delivered attack after ruthless attack, focused only on his mission, letting everything else melt away. This was his destiny. The Shredder had to die.

He raised his katana high and brought it down on the robotic arm, severing it from its body it fell, sputtering with bursts of electricity. But even in this darkest of moments Leo refused to betray his honor. The Shredder's weapon lay useless on the ground and he had two swords.

The two warriors paused as he flipped the sword around in his hand, offering its tsuba to the enemy.

Shredder's eyes grew wide in bewilderment as he took up Leonardo's weapon.

"You have grown stronger, Leonardo, and yet you still have much to learn" he said coldly, delivering his next attack.

Their weapons met again, the clang of metal resounded through the open halls. Leo vowed he would never stop attacking.

"This foolish notion of honor keeps you weak. If it had not been for your honor, I would have been defeated many moons ago" he cackled heartily from behind his iron mask.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed as he struck again, this time leaving a deep gash across his robotic chest. Satisfied with the sharpness of his blade, he stared at the vulnerable spot and replied "Those who live without honor, die without honor."

"Ah yes" the Shredder laughed "you quote the dying words of the guardian you call Yoshi. I still remember the day I ended his life."

But before he could speak again, Raphael was charging him from behind, wrenching his sai from his shoulder blades, and making his attack. Leo and Raph charged together as Leo held back the Shredder's remaining arm and Raphael plunged his sai deep into his abdomen, wrenching off the metal covering, exposing the fragile Utrom inside.

But with a mighty kick, he was free of Leonardo, sending him careening backwards, skidding hard across the floor. And then there was Raphael, raising his sai to strike the final death blow. But before his blade could pierce pink flesh, he was stopped. With a flash of metal, the Shredder brought his brother's sword down upon his arm, slicing through his flesh, muscle, bone, as it parted from his body. A bloody wound of echoing revenge. He froze, letting his sai slip from his remaining hand, it clattered onto the ground as he collapsed face-first into a pool of his own spurting blood.

* * *

"Hey look, Hun's here too!" shouted Mikey to his brother, dodging the lumbering beast as he swung from brother to brother, missing them each time.

"Yeah but this guy's harder to take down" said Donatello as he delivered a kick to the beast's head, uninjuring it, but wincing as he landed from the pain that shot through his ankle.

"Yeah, this guy's hard as a rock" said Mikey, trying to hack away at his leg with his nunchuku, not even leaving a dent.

"Well at least he's slow" said Donatello, favoring his leg as he dodged another attack.

But then, they heard the scream. They turned to see their injured brother, blood spilling down his side in red cascades as he dropped his weapon and collapsed upon the floor.

"Raph!" they shouted in unison. But in their distraction, they were caught off guard. The mighty beast had gotten hold of the Shredder's massive stone throne, holding it high over his head.

"Look out!" shouted Mikey to his brother as he dodged away, but Donatello did not move. He watched his brother bleeding on the floor and couldn't peel his eyes away. A shadow loomed over him blotted out the light, and then… a crushing force. The heaviness came down hard on top of him. The pressure of it made his eyes water as it smashed over him and stayed there, trapping him in the crushing dark that threatened to rob his life away. He could feel it crushing in, the sound of cracks and pops he didn't want to hear. The massive stone settled down upon him, the sound of breaking bones. Every muscle in his body tensed and contorted from the blinding pain.

"Help" he tried to call to his brother, but words refused to leave his throat as any more than a whisper. Then Mikey was there, trying to lift it, trying to keep his brother from succumbing to the numbness, the consuming cold. The numbness pierced by hot, stabbing pain, warm blood in a puddle. Pain... so much pain... and then, he gave in to the darkness.

"Donny! No!" Mikey howled, trying to lift the stone from off his brother's body. He could see blood seeping from beneath it. But it was too heavy, just too heavy.

"Don! Don! Please say something! Don!" but no answer came from beneath. Mikey began to cry at his frustration, still trying to lift his brother free from his stone tomb. That is, until he saw Lithos. The creature was barreling towards him again, this time its rock-hard fist smashing him straight in the face. It knocked him off his feet, but he refused to stay down. Spitting teeth and blood, he stood to face the beast, feeling for the first time in his life burning, uncontrollable rage.

"What did you do!" he howled as he delivered a kick that made the beast stagger backwards. Another kick, and then another. The monster was approaching the balcony. Another. Another. The battle was raging below. He reached the railing struck his final blow, sending his foe careening over the edge, falling, falling. With an eerie howl, he fell, shattering into a million pieces, crushing all who fought below.

* * *

When Leo stood, he looked for his brothers and saw Raph lying there, bleeding heavily, face contorted in pain.

"Shredder!" he growled "You will pay!"

He took up his katana from beside him and charged, sword pointed at the pink flesh of his abdomen, the alien who was truly so frail, but had done so much. The twin metal met its brother, the sheer force of it bursting through his arm. But he refused to let it show. He refused to back down. He would keep his vow until the Shredder's bleeding body lay cold at his feet.

Another attack, this time striking close. He tried to kick out, but Leo flipped in the air and avoided it, landing some distance off, sword pointed at the belly of his foe. They circled one another, listening to the rumble of smashing rock that did not break their concentration, did not fade the hate burning in their eyes. They circled around, planning out their death blows as they stared into those fires of hatred, that burning venom of fear.

"Tell me turtle," the Shredder whispered "is this not familiar?"

Leo did not answer.

"I wonder" said the Shredder, examining the blade of the katana "does this steel thirst for yet another taste of its master's blood?"

Leo swung his sword and struck him hard, carving the robotic head from its shoulders. But instead of falling as he had once before on the rooftop so long ago, a gleam of metal shone above him. His eyes met his own reflection in the steel as the sword, his sword, betrayed him once again. The cold metal plunged mercilessly through his flesh, digging deep beneath his collarbone and deeper still, touching the tender organs that lay inside. And then the two opponents fell, Leonardo, choking on his own blood, the Shredder, not down for long.

In the fleeting time he had, Leo crawled to his brother who was drowning in a pool of red, slowly giving way to the beckon of unconsciousness.

"Raph! Raph…please" he begged, gently shaking his brother. He was so cold. He coughed into his hand a stream of warm blood, but he turned his eyes away. Leo held his breath and ignored the pain.

Raphael opened his eyes and turned his head slowly toward his brother's form. "Leo… I… my arm…m-my arm's gone" he whispered between each gasping breath. A tear of pain rolled down his cheek to mingle with the blood.

"Raph, you have to end this. I…I don't know if I'm going to make it."

His face was so close to his own. His hot breath touched his ear as he whispered, just barely, the words he needed to say.

Raphael could feel himself coming to as he watched his brother grow paler, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, eyes closed in his final desperation.

"You need to do this... I know you can... You need to end it now."

"I…I can't" he gasped, chest heaving with the shock setting into his bones.

"You can. You...you have to do it... do it for me, Raph. You need... to take care of them."

The two brothers turned to look at the others, locked in a battle of their own.

Leo coughed, choking on his blood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, fighting back the urge to collapse.

"P-promise me you'll…take care of them."

Raph rolled his eyes to look at his brother.

"P-promise me."

Raph heaved himself up from the pool of warm blood, ignoring everything, all the pain, all the blood, all the terrible evils that surrounded him. He ignored everything but his brother who lay dying on the floor. Feeling his strength return, he cradled his brother's pale face as he collapsed, trying to take the away pain.

"I promise. I'll do it for you, Leo."

He reached over and grabbed his sai, holding it in his remaining hand, and stood to face the Shredder. Today, his life would end and he would pay for his unspeakable evils, blood for blood.

Finding new strength he screamed and charged at the headless figure standing tall to meet him. In his hand he still held Leo's traitorous katana, dripping with his brother's blood.

Before the alien could think, Raphael ran head long, preparing himself for the kill. He plunged his sai deep into his eye and twisted it, blinding him forever, banishing him to a place darker and colder than any ice-asteroid the galaxy could ever hold. He collapsed, cold and dead, a look of horror forever printed on his face.

And it was done. Raphael abandoned the body of his enemy and ran to his brother, cradling him like an infant, howling with pain into the dark. His brother looked up to him, eyes only narrow slits that brimmed with tears. Blood ran from his mouth and down his cheek.

Through the haze and shadow, Leo saw his brother's face so close to his, the tears he never knew he could shed.

And Raph cried until the blood ran cold, his face pressed against his brother's cool skin, tears spilling, mingling together, two brothers holding tight. Letting go. The blood poured down his side, so much blood it made his eyes darken and his mind swim until he couldn't keep the image of his dying brother from blurring. And when the darkness finally prevailed, the two brothers slipped away in each other's arms, giving way to the sweet beckoning of the cold.

* * *

**Not all ends are truly final, for the phoenix rises from the ashes. From death rises life. From despair rises hope. **

**This is not the end, but only the beginning. **

**More chapters to come.**

* * *


	10. Chapter 10: What's Left Behind

Edited Version 10/25/09

Chapter 10: What's Left Behind

It was quiet, so blissfully dark, numb and quiet. It reminded him of home, North Hampton after the first fallen snow. Central Park in December three AM nights. But Death wasn't as cold as he'd expected, and the dark wasn't as deep as he'd thought. And for a moment, the silence was interrupted.

A sound piercing through the blackness. It rang again, like a bell, and he twitched at the memory of church bells,

Again.

Again.

A pulse, bringing him closer to something real, something he could touch.

_Leo stood alone, ready for battle, but Shredder had his sword. Honor, he thought. He'll know why Leo trusts his enemies, why he thinks they have his honor, how he can forgive them._

_The battle was quick. The sword tasted his brother's flesh, and Raph remembered why he never forgives._

_Leo gripped at the wound, stumbling drunkenly, all hint of grace gone. Ugly._

_He turns, mouth open, skin paled, eyes flowing rivers of blood, and he whispers through bloody teeth._

"_Promise."_

Raphael's eyes flew open, trying to get up fast despite the room spinning around him. His heart was racing painfully against his ribs. The room smelled of antiseptic and death.

"Leo!"

He flinched as a pair of hands pushed him back into the enveloping warmth of the pillows, finding his own weakness surprising. He lost his will to fight it before he even gave himself a chance. But his head was pounding and his body ached, so he forgave himself.

Quickly, he realized he was no longer in the fortress, and it let him breathe a little easier. The Shredder was dead. He remembered the feeling of his sai twisting into his filthy eye and into his putrid brain.

But then there was Leo…

The room came into focus, cold, white, and unfamiliar. Gone was the darkness, gone was the dust and sand mingling with blood. Gone was the Shredder slain by his own hands. Forever.

The pulsing sound of the monitors rang again and again in rhythm with his heartbeat, steadying with every breath. He blinked again and caught Mike's tired eyes, his hands gently easing him back down.

"Hey," he said quietly, "g' morning sunshine." He smiled sadly and Raph just couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing.

His brother's look of concern turned into a pout. "What?"

"Your teeth" he replied hoarsely between chuckles.

Mikey put a hand self-consciously over his mouth laughed. "I know, I know. They haven't fixed them yet. I look like I've been playing hockey, eh?" He said in a purposely terrible Canadian accent.

It felt good to laugh again. For over a week now, Mikey's whole life had been nothing but worrying. He knew his eyes would still be red from earlier that morning, but hoped his brother wouldn't notice.

Then Raph remembered, trying to sit upright in his fear and realization, dizziness hit him like a semi truck. He clutched his head and had to lay back down with a moan, darkness dirtying his vision.

"Hey, bro you shouldn't try to sit up like that" Mikey chided. "You cracked your head pretty good."

"Leo. Where's Leo?"

Mike tried not to let his expression change. "You know we're lucky they found you in time, you and Don. You guys would have been dead if Cody hadn't called Mr. Mortu and said we went in. I guess they came in right after you killed him."

"You mean…?"

Mikey nodded slowly. "Yeah, we won, Raph. The war is over."

Raphael sighed, a great weight lifted off his chest. He knew he was dead since the moment he felt his sai wrench inside his filthy alien brain, but it was good to hear it out loud. Finally. _Finally _the Shredder was dead_._

But still...

"What about Leo?"

Mikey cast a quick glance over his shoulder, suddenly uneasy, and Raph followed his eyes. Blinking back the haze filling his brain, he saw his father sitting silently in the corner. A new wave of grief swam over him as he watched his Sensei cry, but he still needed an answer. He needed to hear it for himself.

"Don's in surgery right now," Mike continued, "They took him in just a minute ago. They said his spinal cord was almost severed. You should see his shell, it's a mess. It's all cracked and stuff." He hugged himself, shuddered. "They're not sure if he'll be able to walk again."

Then, something in the air changed. When Raph spoke, his voice was deadpan. Disturbed.

"You're not answering me, Mike."

Mikey's expression shifted, taking a step backward. Raph looked fevered, manic… dead. His eyes were still unfocused by the pain killers, and it only made it worse. For a moment, Mike was sure his brother had completely lost his mind.

"Raph, you need to rest. They got you all drugged up and everything. We'll come back later, okay?"

"No!" Raph screamed, pushing himself off the bed, ignoring the pounding dizziness and the protest of the monitors as they were ripped from his skin. "Tell me now! Tell me if I killed him. _Tell me!_"

It was Master Splinter who made him hesitate, not even speaking a word. The room went deathly silent as their gazes met, Raphael clenching and unclenching his fist, blood seeping from the detached IV site.

Then, a look of utter rage swept like fire across his face and Raphael lost himself. "NO! Fucking liars!"

He barreled forward with madness in his eyes. But the others were too shaken to react, stumbling backward into the hall, they slammed the door behind them, leaving Raph alone in the quiet room.

"Don't you leave me!" He bellowed, raising his fists to pound the door.

And then, he saw it—the bandage, the wound he wished he'd dreamt. Only one fist hit the door, the other was a mangled mass of bloodied bandages and bone-crushing pain. Gone.

He didn't want to look. He closed his eyes and prayed silently, genuinely, for the first time in his life.

He screamed again and slammed his fist into the metal door again and again until his knuckles bled and physical pain drown out the rest.

When the room was spinning too fast for him even to see the blood-stained door, he collapsed. Turning his back to the wall he slid slowly to the floor and finally gave into the pain and exhaustion. Feeling the encroaching darkness, the slow seepage of blood through the bandage, he saw his brother's figure standing there, as solid as anything he'd ever seen.

"Leo," he rasped feverishly, "please. You gotta help me."

But Leo only stared with an unchanging expression, nodding once but never saying a word. Then, he began to fade into the darkness.

"Leo, no! Please! _Help me!"_

In the hallway, Mikey winced. But even the stabbing pain in his arm from the heavily bandaged bone-deep gash, even the thirty six stitches that had taken to close it, couldn't compare to the pain that weighed down his heart.

His master was so frail, so sad. His fur was damp and matted from the crying, and for the first time in his life, Mikey the terrifying need to take care of his father. He'd grown ancient in a matter of days, so frail since they'd left, and even older still when they came back one brother short.

He'd taken it hard every night, every day, shedding silent tears or staring off into the distance, feigning meditation. And during the long, sleepless nights, Mike would listen as his father called into the darkness the names of ghosts. Just like Raphael.

After leaving Raph's room in such a hurry, he could hear his brother raging like a savage beast right through the walls. Raph pounded the door over and over, screaming out to him, but Mike was just too tired. He just couldn't deal with it anymore.

He had to retreat, run away like a coward. He just couldn't break it to him just yet. But Raph already knew. He just needed to hear it from someone else to make it real, but Mikey wasn't ready for that yet. It still didn't feel real to him.

He was supposed to be the carefree turtle, the joker, the prankster. But now he found himself becoming someone he didn't recognize. He was his father's keeper, the worrier, the bearer of bad news. The solemn, tear-filled one that kept strong just for the sake of the others, even though every molecule of his being was screaming for a breakdown.

But behind the door, Raph was breaking. He hadn't seen that kind of anger in his brother's eyes in a long, long time. The sight of it lingering there like a ticking bomb scared him to the very core. He knew Raph wouldn't take things well. He knew the scars they all carried would set deeper and harder in his hotheaded brother, but he never thought it would be like this.

It was so much to carry. He just didn't know how much longer he could take it before he got crushed under the weight of it. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, even walking felt impossible, like his legs and head were made out of concrete. Even talking was exhausting.

But he knew he had to be strong for just a while longer, until Raph healed and Don was out of surgery. Just until Sensei could stop crying.

He feared he would never stop crying.

He listened to his brother from the hallway until the pounding stopped and Raph finally exhausted himself. All around him, hospital staff gathered to see the commotion while the door rattled and jarred, then finally lay still again.

Mike sighed quietly to himself, and knew his brother had finally collapsed. It was time to be the strong one again. So he dutifully pulled a strong-looking nurse aside and spoke.

"My brother got out of bed. Someone should probably get him back in there before he wakes up. Don't stay in there longer than you need to and once he's awake, call me before you do anything. I'll be in room 313."

The nurse nodded and began to trudge off, but Mikey caught him by the arm again.

"And get help. He's really strong, so don't underestimate him. He can be a real hot head."

Letting the nurse go, he watched him march down the hallway and disappear. Then he turned in the other direction, the weight growing in his gut, making his footsteps heavy as he headed towards Donatello's room.

He knew he wouldn't be there for a while, though. The doctors had said the surgery could take hours. They'd never operated on a person like them before, after all, and Mikey figured that in the shape Don was in, it would be like putting Humpty-Dumpty back together again.

Seven surgeries and the sight of his brother's shell still made him nauseous.

Sitting in the dark room, waiting for Don, Mike and Splinter stared into the emptiness. Master Splinter had stopped crying for the moment and just stared straight ahead, lost in the shadow of his own thoughts.

After a long silence, Master Splinter cleared his throat. "My son" he said softly.

The sound of his voice made Mike jump with surprise.

"I know you will tell me in time the events of that painful day, but I feel I must ask you speak to me now, to the best of your ability. I find my imagination is getting the best of me, and I must know the truth to make these nightmares stop."

Mikey turned to his Sensei with a pained expression. The sight of it made his father's heart break.

"I am sorry, Michelangelo. I know it is difficult."

"No, it's okay Sensei. Promise." He hesitated, staring at his hands folded in his lap. "I really haven't told anyone about it yet. But I think I'm ready to tell you. Maybe."

The old rat stared into his son's eyes, amazed to see the pain dwelled behind them. It made his heart ache in the most unimaginable of ways. His son, once so carefree and child-like had been hardened, dulled like a blade that has seen too many battles. No longer did the innocence of childhood linger behind the blue. No longer did laughter come to them. Instead they spoke of so much pain, so much evil, so much sadness. It was a fate no child should ever undergo, but leading a life such as theirs could do that, he supposed.

His son had grown up all too soon, and all he could find within himself is guilt. There would be no justifying this. He'd made far too many mistakes.

Michelangelo had been the last of his sons to lose the innocence he'd once held on to so stubbornly. Long after his brothers had hardened, his eyes had still held on to that lively, childish energy of youth. There had been a time where Splinter had thought he may never lose it, instead carry it with him through the rest of his life.

It was a gift. Such an amazing, inspiring gift. Always, Michelangelo had been his family's light in the darkness.

But now he was scarred and battle-torn and the lights had gone dim. He was still so young, a child of nineteen, but finally, he had seen enough. Too much. No one so young should ever experience the horrors of war, especially one that had once loved life so much. Now the laughter had abandoned him, leaving behind only shadows of who he once had been.

Mikey closed his eyes and let the memories fill his mind. Finally he felt like they'd been locked inside for far too long, and maybe they wouldn't let him free them out. But the longer he sat in silence, the more the walls were torn down, letting the memories flow with every painful, bloody detail.

"We were fighting two and two. Leo and Raph split off to take the Shredder and that left Donny n' me to get the other guy. This guy Shredder called Lithos, he was made out of rock or something. He crushed him like a bug underneath this stone chair, but Don was trapped underneath and… and I could hear him calling for help, but I couldn't get it off of him. I couldn't…I guess… I just snapped."

Mikey could barely recall the final portion of the battle. He'd been running on pure adrenaline and an unquenchable thirst for revenge. It was like his body had been possessed and switched on autopilot. He'd killed without mercy.

But Mike was convinced. After that beast had done that to Donatello, he deserved no mercy.

"He almost got me 'cause I saw Raph with his arm lying on the floor… like, ten feet away from him. I've never seen so much blood in my life and I never want to ever again." He shuddered at the images pounding through his brain. "And after Lithos fell off the balcony I turned to see if Raph was okay, if they all were okay, but I was all alone. The Shredder had one of Raph's sai sticking out of his eye and the blood was just pouring out..."

He looked up to his Sensei and noticed his hands were shaking. A bolt of nausea twisted his stomach. "I…I saw them all, lying on the floor, bleeding. I thought they we're all…they were all…dead." He shuddered again, then gasped, promising himself he wouldn't cry. Instead he wrapped his arms around himself and turned his head away, fighting to stay strong for just a while longer.

Splinter shook his head. _So much pain,_ he thought, _and_ _so much suffering. One should not be made to suffer such evils so young._

"Then someone broke down the door. Cody came in with Turtle X and Bishop was there in this giant battle droid. And all these Utroms and clone troopers came in with their battle gear and these huge laser guns ready to take the whole place down. But no one moved when they saw me. When they saw what had happened."

"And that is when Mr. Mortu brought your brothers onto the Homeworld."

Mikey nodded. "Yeah. They brought us to this hospital thing, but it was all gross like Utroms stuff, you know. I-I thought for sure they were gonna save them. Like they were gonna be okay because the Utroms can do anything, right? And then Leo... he just..."

His eyes welled up with tears. He stood from his chair, knelt by his father feet and laid his head in his lap, letting the old rat comfort him as he did when he was a child, whenever Raph had been teasing him or he'd skinned his knee doing something stupid. But now the pain was different. It hurt from the inside out in a way that would never get better.

He didn't know how much longer he could take it.

He looked up to his Sensei and sobbed. "...he just… went to sleep. I never even… got to say goodbye."

He shook as he buried his face again.

"I was all alone!" He bawled. "And I don't even know _why_. W-why'd he have to… I don't know why. I've been so below par lately, but_ I_ was the one that got out of this. I don't know why it's me that has to be okay, because I shouldn't be. I _shouldn't._"

He buried his face further into his father's lap again. "I…I just wish…it was _me_, not him. I can't do this! He would have known what to do!"

Splinter sighed, grief filling his voice as he comforted his sobbing son, resting his paw on his quaking shoulders. "Do not say such things Michelangelo. Fate decides what paths our lives must take. This has been the path chosen for us, and you must be strong. Look towards the horizon, for we can never turn back."

"I…I just want it to be the same. I… don't want it to hurt anymore. I don't want to cry." His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, his face still buried in his Sensei's robes. "But I know it'll never be the same. Everything's changed. I can see it. Don just looks so sad. I know it hurts him. His shell was busted into a million pieces. He almost _died._ When they picked him up, it was like he was going to fall apart. The Utroms glued his shell together with this cement stuff, like gluing a broken plate. They said they had no idea how he lived. They couldn't believe it when he woke up."

Splinter nodded and stroked his son's head. He seemed to be regaining his composure.

"And then there's Raph today, the first time he'd been awake and talking since then. But it wasn't happy like I thought it would be. When he first started laughing, I thought he'd be okay, but I don't think he really knew what was going on. When he was asking for Leo, I just couldn't tell him. I couldn't. I wanted him to be okay. But when I saw his eyes, it scared me. It wasn't anything like him, it was _scary_. The last time I saw him look like that, he was holding a pipe over my head."

"I saw it there too, my son. We have all been traumatized in many ways and your brother has two losses he has been dealt. Losing a limb is an experience no one should be subjected to. Raphael is as sensitive as he is passionate, but he will deal with things his way until he is ready to let us in."

Mikey sat up and looked into his master's eyes, and nodded as they reached their understanding. They would help Raph when he wanted to be helped. But before they could do that, he had to tell him about Leo. He knew his brother deserved to hear it.

Then the door clicked open and the pair flew to their feet. A doctor walked into the room followed closely behind by two nurses carrying a sleeping Don on a stretcher. They placed him gently onto the bed and scuttled around adjusting his IVs before leaving the doctor behind to speak to his family.

Dr. Touresh, the doctor who had been performing the last of Don's surgeries was of some alien race unknown to both the rat and his son, but his smile was warm and comforting none the less.

"The surgery went wel,l" said the doctor, beaming. "He certainly is a fighter."

Splinter smiled and nodded. "Yes, Donatello is very determined."

"I can see that," said the doctor. "I've never operated on any person with his bone structure before. It was a learning experience, for sure. The shell made things tricky, but he pulled through nicely thanks to the Utrom's initial intervention. The epoxy they used to mend him is absolutely amazing. It's as if it was made from living flesh."

"The technology of the Utroms will never fail to both confuse and astound me, Dr. Touresh. Now tell me, is this the last of his surgeries?"

"Well his spine has been repaired and his shell should hold up fine as long as the bandages stay on a few more weeks, just in case. After that, I don't want him moving much for another few months. Just how long will have to be touch and go, but he has a lot of healing left to do."

"And about the paralysis? You mentioned that he may regain sensation in his legs."

"It's too soon to tell for sure, but the microchip we implanted in his cortex should reprogram his brain to regain motor function. It acts as a secondary sensory-motor center that should eventually stimulate his lower extremities. It should branch out and effectively replace the damaged nerves that were severed by the injury. But it usually takes a while. The brain has to learn to use the chip to compensate for the damaged neurons in his spinal cord, and the chip has to adapt to the body."

Splinter nodded, but Mikey looked betrayed.

"You said that once you put that thing in his brain he'd walk again."

"I said there is a likelihood that he will regain sensation. Walking is a completely other matter. But if your brother is even half as determined as I think he is, he just may be able to surprise us all."

"And what are the chances of that?"

"It's still fairly new technology, and with your brother's unique physiology, I honestly can't make any promises."

"But that's not what you said!" Mike shouted, brow knot in frustration.

"Michelangelo, that is enough!" Barked Splinter.

Feeling defeated, Mikey walked over and slumped in the chair by Donny's bed, waiting for the anesthesia to wear off. After a short while, Master Splinter finished talking with the doctor and seated himself beside Michelangelo, staring at the unmasked face of his other, broken son. There was good news; it was the last of the surgeries. Now only time would tell how complete his recovery would be.

"I'm sick of hospitals," Mikey said bitterly. "I think I need some fresh air."

Master Splinter sighed. "Maybe it is time you went home, my son. You need to be free of this depressing place for at least one night. Go home and rest, get some sleep. I will be here in the morning."

Then the old rat waved his hand, dismissing his son, and closed his eyes. But Mikey knew he wouldn't sleep, at least not until Don woke up, and that could take hours.

As much as he wanted to wait with him, he just couldn't bring himself to be cooped up in a sterile white room anymore. He had to get out of there, but not before he spoke to Raph.

Right before he made to leave, the door clicked open again, and as if by some lucky twist of fate, the large nurse from hours before poked his head into the room, giving him a silent nod that meant Raph was awake.


	11. Chapter 11: Changed

**If you thought chapter 10 was intense, be prepared. It's only going to get darker from here.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Changed

Mikey walked down the cold, sterile hallway slowly, as if in slow motion, walking side-by-side with the nurse he had put in charge of Raphael. He didn't want to get to his brother's room any time soon, so he figured that the slower he walked, the longer he could delay the inevitable.

"You weren't kidding when you warned us about him" said the nurse. "A lot of family members overreact when somebody's in the hospital, but you were completely telling the truth and then some."

"What did he do this time?" Mikey sighed, playing out a million possibilities in his head.

"When we went into his room he was passed out on the floor right next to the door. He had practically busted down the door with his fist. It would have been broken into smithereens if it wasn't metal."

"Yeah he probably would have."

The nurse nodded and continued with an expression on his face like he was telling some tidbit of really good gossip.

"He broke his hand and he was bleeding everywhere because he was punching at the door so much. He tore his stitches open too."

Mikey sighed. _Oh Raph, you always make it so hard for anybody help you._

"So I called in Dr. Hall. He's the guy that sewed him up before. But when he was about halfway through fixing him up and I was bandaging his hand, he woke up real fast and was screaming like crazy. He was flailing around everywhere and Dr. Hall was trying to hold him down for the rest of his stitches, but he punched him flat in the face!"

The nurse laughed. "Nobody likes Dr. Hall. Between you and me, he's kind of an asshole. I think your brother might have broken his nose, so everybody in the nurse's station is having a good laugh about it."

"Yeah well my brother is kind of an asshole too" Mikey said darkly.

The nurse turned toward him and looked into his eyes with stark urgency. "Dr. Hall isn't going to be happy about this. I heard he's already trying to get your brother sedated and tied to his bed. He can do that too, especially after that episode."

Mikey nodded. He had no idea what he was going to do. Getting all of that done to him would surely make Raph go ballistic. It would probably be less dangerous just to let him beat up the doctors.

"Well he passed out again after that, lucky for him, and Dr. Hall finished up on his arm, nose bleed and all. I had no idea someone as banged up as your brother could be capable of all of that. The concussion makes him pass out whenever he overexerts himself, but I'm afraid that we won't have that luxury once he heals up. I would consider at least the sedatives if I were you."

Mikey shook his head. "Let me at least talk to this doctor guy before you do anything."

"I don't know how long it will take for them to patch his nose up, but I'll do my best. If I find him I'll send him to your brother's room. I doubt he'll want to go in though."

When they reached the door, all the nurses passing by started whispering. He could hear one of them saying to another in a horrified tone "He isn't going to go in there, is he?"

The helpful nurse stopped and gave Mikey a reassuring smile. Grateful for his kindness, he felt ashamed that he didn't even know his name so he read it off his id tag.

"The last time I checked on him he was just waking up. If you have any trouble just shout. Security knows all about him."

"Thanks Brian" he replied, trying to return his warm smile, but he wasn't really sure if he was still capable of smiling. After Raph got done with him, he probably wouldn't even be capable of twitching his index finger.

Mikey had to practically bust the door down to get into Raph's room because it was so badly dented. Blood was still spattered across the metal.

"Raph? Why did you do this?"

But instead of replying, Raph just rolled over to his other side, trying to hold back the wince of pain, and left his brother to look at the back of his shell.

"Oh come on Raph. Talk to me."

"Does it look like I wanna talk to you?" he growled, not turning over.

Mikey laughed darkly. "Just a few hours ago you were screaming for me not to leave you. Now you don't want me to say anything. What's wrong with you?"

"What do you think is wrong with me."

Mikey paused. "I'm sorry Raph, but you're acting like an asshole. Just let the doctors help you, ok?"

"I don't want their fucking help. Just leave me alone and let me die."

"You're not dying, Raph. Stop being so dramatic."

Raph chuckled to the wall. "Dramatic? Am I being dramatic? Well excuse the fuck out of me. Just because I lost my fucking arm, I should stop being so dramatic. Fuck you Mikey. Leave me alone."

"Stop this! This is crazy Raph! You punched a fucking doctor. You broke his nose. Why won't you let anybody help you!"

"I DON'T WANT THEIR GODDAMN HELP!" he roared, sitting up fast in his bed, his bandaged hand clenched into a fist despite his broken knuckles. The veins in his neck were bulging and Mikey knew he was in trouble.

He turned around fast and stared deep into his brother's eyes, that terrifying, venomous fire burning within them.

"Raph, come on. Just calm down. This isn't good for you to be this angry. You're going to pass out again."

"Fine" he bellowed, punching the wall beside his bed. "I hope I never wake up!"

And sure enough, the dizziness was setting in again.

"Please Raph, just lie down and let me talk to you."

But Raph had worked himself into an uncontrollable rage. He glared at his brother, a searing hatred in his eyes. And then, he charged.

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll shut you up!" He barreled towards his brother, ready to strike him with every ounce of strength he could muster. But thankfully, Mikey was much faster. He opened the door and ran out, slamming it hard in his brother's face.

He put his back to the door and held it closed. He could feel Raph pounding from the other side, howling like a wild animal. Mikey's heart was racing. He tried to catch his breath before calling for security.

"Help! I need help! Somebody get my brother before he hurts himself!"

Two security guards dressed in white ran from down the hallway but paused when they heard the noise coming from inside his brother's room.

"You want us to go in there? I heard about that guy. I 'm not going in there."

"You have to! He's going to tear his stitches out again" Mikey begged.

Then he saw a squat, mean-looking man coming down the hall toward him. He was wearing a doctor's lab coat and his nose was swollen and purple. Mikey knew it was probably Dr. Hall.

The man drew a large syringe from his pocket and looked toward Mikey amidst Raph's screaming.

"That beast needs to be sedated" he spat with venom in his voice.

"That 'beast' is my brother!" shouted Mikey.

"If I can't t sedate him, we have other measures we can take. He is a danger to this hospital and a danger to himself. Let me use the sedative or I will find another way."

Mikey paused first, but then nodded his head slowly, trying to hold back the tears. The doctor looked to the security guards and gave them the ok.

Pounding down the door, the three of them barreled into the room and pinned Raphael down against the wall. Mikey watched from the doorway as the doctor stabbed the giant needle into his brother's neck.

His brother's hateful glare met his eyes. The aching pain he felt leap up within his stomach made him wince. It was like someone was tearing his heart out. He stared back into his brother's rage-fevered eyes and he whispered "I'm sorry, Raph. This is the only way I can help you."

After a minute of struggling, Raph went limp and quiet as the tears finally came to Mikey's eyes. He turned and he ran, as fast as he could, not knowing where he was going, not caring where he would go. But he had to get out. He had to be free. He had to chase the pain away.

He felt like Raph, just running away from his problems, taking off when the going gets tough. But now he knew how it felt when the hot head would proclaim he 'needed some air.' He felt like he was suffocating.

Somehow, he had turned into the hothead and his brother had turned into nothing short of a monster.

* * *

In the quiet room Master Splinter meditated on what Michelangelo had told him. He couldn't believe the horrors his sons had faced. Locked inside his thoughts, it was as if he was living vicariously through their memories. _These memories_, he thought, are too _much for such a young mind to handle._

Donatello stirred in the bed beside him.

"Master Splinter?" he whispered. His eyes hadn't come into focus yet and the anesthesia made it hard for him to think straight.

"Donatello" the old rat said with a smile. He stroked his son's head lovingly. He had pulled through.

"How did it go?" his son said hoarsely.

"Well. I spoke with Dr. Touresh and he said this was the last surgery."

"Oh good. Seven is enough. I don't think I could take another one." He was so weak he barely had the strength to breathe. He hadn't felt strong in so long. It was like he was as light and pliable as a feather, ready to blow away by any striking breeze.

Master Splinter nodded. "Do you feel well, my son?"

"My stomach is really upset, but that's just because of the anesthesia. If I just close my eyes for a while it should go away."

"Yes, please rest. I will be here when you awaken."

Donatello closed his eyes and began to drift to sleep when he thought of something.

"Did he say anything about me being able to walk again, Sensei?"

"He has faith, in you my son. He knows you have a determined soul and I know you will find a way."

There was a long silence.

"It's weird, you know, having a broken ankle but not being able to feel it. I can't feel anything below my waist. It's like being cut in half."

Master Splinter did not reply.

"But that microchip is so cool. It's going to fix all that. I'll have to do some research on it when I get back home." He paused. "When will I be able to go back home?"

"When you are ready. Now please, go to sleep. Your mind is so busy it even makes me tired."

And with that, Donatello finally went back to sleep, dreaming about all the work he would get done, all the research he had to do when he got back to his lab. He could barely wait.

The smile that spread across his son's face as he slept gave Master Splinter his first real sigh of relief since they had returned. He was taking it so well and he was fighting so hard. He would never be the same Donatello in body, but in mind he seemed to have changed for the better. Splinter was amazed that somehow, Donatello had found a peace with his life that he had not had before. It was as if for the first time he was really, truly happy.

* * *

When Mikey reached the rooftop it was dark and raining outside. His chest was heaving not from the running, but from the anger in his brother's eyes. He put out a hand to steady himself on the concrete wall, tried to catch his breath and let the rain drench him, washing his pain away, mingling with his desperate tears.

_I just don't know what to do_ he thought, watching a bolt of lightning twist its way across the sky, listening to the boom of thunder that followed. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the sound.

_Any minute now, I'm going to wake up and everything will be fine._ He closed his eyes tight and waited. But the rain still poured, his heart still pounded, and the thunder still rang out into the night.

"I really wish you didn't go, Leo. I have no idea what to do."

He listened to the falling rain, felt its stinging on his skin.

"There's something wrong with Raph. It's like he's lost his mind."

But still, silence and rain.

"This isn't what I do, Leo! You're the one who's supposed to take care of us! You're the one who fixes this mess!"

He could barely control the sobs, the flowing tears that mingled with the rain.

"We're lost without you, Leo. We need you. I need you."

Then the lightning lit up the sky and the thunder pounded after it. Mikey knew he was pathetic. He knew he was wasting his breath. But he had to say it. He had to try it one last time.

"Leo!" he screamed over the darkened city, the tears ringing through his voice, his echo haunting through the city streets. "Don't leave me here alone" he sobbed. "Come back!"

Thunder. Lightning. Rain poured from the sky and he sobbed once more.

"Come back!"


	12. Chapter 12: The Waiting Game

Chapter 12: The Waiting Game

Two weeks had passed and Master Splinter still waited. He waited for Donatello, seeing him grow stronger and more lively each passing day. Watching him was like a living reminder that there still was good in the world. That if even he could pull through, any one could learn to live again. He waited for Raphael who since his last violent outburst, the hospital staff had kept heavily sedated. He drifted in and out of consciousness, always hazy, always calling out the name of his lost brother.

There were times when the old rat would sit at his bedside and listen to his broken son having conversations with ghosts. But no matter what he said, no matter how cloudy his mind was, he always spoke of a promise. Sometimes, in his sleep, he would mutter the word over and over. "Promise." And it broke his Sensei's heart.

Lastly, he waited for Michelangelo, who seemed to come and go like a passing storm. One day he would be there, supporting his brothers. The next moment, he was gone. As the days passed on, a stark coldness had edged deeper into his being. At times he had become silent, solemn, and distant. In times like these, the old rat could barely recognize him- the lines that set deep in his brow, the frown that tugged down the corners of his mouth, the cold sadness in his eyes that was so unlike the carefree boy he had once known.

Whenever he had tried to comfort him, tried to reach out and touch him, he would simply shake him off and leave to some unknown place. Sometimes he would be gone for days.

But the date of the funeral was near approaching and his son's absences were growing longer each passing day.

Master Splinter knew his son was haunted. He was trying to escape the inescapable that stalked him in his shadow. But the ghosts of his past were becoming harder to shake. He wouldn't be able to hide from them forever. The old rat knew that once his son realized this, he would return to them once again.

* * *

Mikey sat at the edge of the old wooden dock. He remembered the place well. It felt good to have something at least a little familiar, something that reminded him of the old days.

He had found himself coming there more often to try to clear his head. Most times it felt like he was collecting more things to hide from, more things to wander across his mind, more things to make him cry, to make him worry, to make him want to scream. The docks at least gave him a quiet place to think. He would sit there for hours, just watching his reflection ripple in the murky waters long after the twilight had stamped it out. Even after darkness fell, he still stared into the glassy sea, watching the dancing silver reflections of stars.

Master Splinter was worried about him, and he was ashamed to give his father yet another thing to think about, but he just couldn't bare being cooped up in that hospital any more. He knew Donny was getting stronger, but Raph just made him want to cry. Seeing him that way shook him to his very core. He was supposed to be the strong one, the hot head. But now, he was reduced to hazy nothingness, as weak and dependent as a child. When he came to visit him, Raph would barely recognized him. Most times he would call him Leo. When he called out to him, when he talked to his brother's ghost, he just couldn't take the pain. He was sick of crying. He was sick of feeling helpless.

It had been twelve hours since he had abandoned his sensei, leaping out of Donatello's window as they both slept. But he'd felt like he was suffocating in that stuffy room. When he went to open the window, he just couldn't resist the beckon of the docks.

Luckily, he'd found all the easiest and quickest routes from the docks straight to his brothers' bedroom windows. To get into Don's room was easy. After the last of his surgeries, he'd been moved down to a lower floor and there was a rooftop that came right up to meet his window sill. But to get into Raph's room was harder. He was on the fifth floor on the side of the building that was just sheer walls and windows. Usually he would have to climb up an old rain gutter if he wanted to slip in unnoticed by his sensei, or he would be forced to actually go in and enter in the normal way. For some reason he just hated that.

He sat there for just a little while longer until the gray sky made his reflection disappear into the mist. The clouds threatened more rain.

Mikey sighed deeply to himself. _Well I guess I should go back anyway. Donny's probably waking up and wondering where I am._

He gathered up the bag that sat beside him and stood with the cracked wooden dock beneath his feet. He had been planning on going to see Donny later that day when Master Splinter spent the afternoon in Raph's room. He had a present for him, and he knew that Don would be ecstatic. Master Splinter, not so much. So he had to make sure he did it in secret.

Grasping the bag, he headed down an old cracked ally way and leaped onto the fire escape of a nearby building, hopping from rooftop to rooftop just like old times.

* * *

There was a soft tap at Donny's window that made him open his eyes and look up. Mikey was standing there on the other side of the pane. He waved to his brother with a warm grin and Mikey tried to feign a genuine-looking smile in return. He wrenched the window open and stepped inside.

"Hey Don, how you feelin' today, bud?"

"I'm good," said Donny softly. He still looked so weak, so much thinner than before.

Mikey looked over to the table at the side of his bed and saw his lunch still sitting there, untouched from hours before. "You sure you're feeling ok? You didn't eat your food."

"I know. It's just an upset stomach," he said, rubbing his heavily bandaged plastron. "I'm fine. It's nothing, really."

But Mikey didn't believe him. His brother looked much paler than he had the days before. He hoped he wasn't getting sick. Don always had been the one to sicken the easiest during hard winters. He would catch a cold almost every time it rained. Even when they were kids he was the first to catch whatever was going around and the last one to shake it.

"Dr. Touresh said I won't be home in time for the funeral," Don said sadly, trying to change the subject. "He said it would be at least a few more weeks before I can even get out of bed."

"Sorry Donny, but maybe this'll cheer you up." He handed his brother the paper bag. He opened it slowly with feeble hands, and when he saw what was inside, his face lit up like a child's at Christmas.

"My laptop! Oh thanks Mikey! I've been bored out of my skull just lying here for two weeks. Now I can finally do the research I've been thinking about."

"Just don't let Master Splinter know you have it. You know he'd probably take it away from you."

"Yeah. Thanks Mikey."

Don then froze and wrapped his arm around his stomach.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," he nodded, swallowing hard. "I'm fine."

There was a soft knock at the door and Don said to come in.

"Hi Donatello!" A pretty blonde nurse beamed from his doorway. "I'm supposed to change your bandages if you don't mind."

"Hey Joy. Yeah, I don't mind."

The young nurse beamed as she walked in carrying a bag full of bandages.

"You've met my brother Michelangelo, right?"

The nurse shook her head as she helped Donny sit up. He winced and groaned loudly, holding tight onto the bed rail. "Don't worry, Donny, I'll give you your meds once we're done. I think I've only met him once before, but that was only for a moment." She smiled at Mikey "Hi there."

"Hi," Mike replied. But he was too entranced in watching the nurse unroll his brother's bandages to give her a proper greeting. Every new strip of gauze lifted away to reveal the heavy, dark scars that twisted through his brother's shell and plastron. His eyes traced their ragged lines until he couldn't look at them any longer. A twinge of grief set itself alight in his chest when his eyes met the polished floor. His poor brother looked like a China plate haphazardly glued together.

It took the nurse a good ten minutes to rebandage his shell. When Mikey finally got the courage to look up again, Don's entire torso was covered, hiding the scars that dwelled beneath.

"You seem a little hot, Don," said Joy eyeing his untouched food. "How is that stomachache?"

"It's ok. Maybe I'll have something at dinner."

"It's almost dinner now," said the nurse in a concerned tone. "You can't take your medicine until you get some food in you. It would rip your stomach lining to shreds."

Don's stomach twisted at all the mention of food. He wished everyone would just stop talking and let him use his laptop. He'd weathered the fawning and attention just fine these last two weeks, because it was necessary. This just wasn't necessary, especially not with Mikey around. Making too much ado about a little stomachache would only give him more reason to worry.

"I'd better take your temperature. You don't look so good" said the nurse, reaching into her coat pocket and withdrawing a thermometer. She snapped a sterile plastic top on it and put it in Don's mouth before he could protest. Instantly she got a reading and frowned as she examined it. "94.8. That's not good Don. You're supposed to be at 92.4."

"I know," said Don quietly, looking away slowly. His eyes met Mikey's before he got a chance to turn away. He wanted so badly to wipe that worried look off his brother's face. "I'm fine, really. Just a little queasy since yesterday night."

"I'm not sure, Don," Joy said thoughtfully. "Someone in your condition shouldn't have a fever like that. I'll go call Dr. Touresh to have a look at you," Joy said firmly hurrying out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

"I knew you were sick!" Mike exclaimed, watching the nurse leave. "Why didn't you say something?"

But Don didn't answer. Paling three shades lighter, he'd wrapped his arms around his stomach, swallowing thickly. "Ohhh, I don't feel so great," he admitted, closing his eyes.

"You okay, bro?"

Don still had his eyes closed, hugging himself tigheter despite the pain shooting through his sides. "Ugh, I need the garbage can..."

Mikey looked confused. "What for?"

"Just give it to me" He groaned, holding out his hand for the can.

Mikey picked it up from the floor and gave it to his brother who immediately curled himself around it, ducked his head down and puked. "Oh man," Mike gasped, getting to his feet. He walked over to his brother's bed and put a hand on his retching brother's shell. "It's ok, bro," he murmured, rubbing Don's back as he heaved. Don stopped, turning his head to meet his brother's eyes for only a moment. He blinked lazily, beads of sweat trailing down his brow before he ducked back and retched again.

* * *

When Master Splinter walked into Donatello's room he smelled the sent of vomit. Wrinkling his nose, he sat down in the chair beside Michelangelo. Dr. Touresh was saying something about a virus… and the immune system. He tried to pick up the pieces of the conversation.

Donatello half-listened with his eyes closed, trying to calm his raging stomach. The firey pain of his tortured bones and muscles rolled up his sides and across his back and chest as the pain meds wore off. If his stomach wouldn't calm down, he couldn't eat without throwing up. If he didn't eat, he couldn't get his pain meds. Pretty soon the pain would overpower the nausea and he would have to eat, but he just hadn't reached that point yet.

"In a weakened state such as Donatello's, the immune system becomes more concerned with repairing the body, leaving him vulnerable to illness," the doctor continued. "Either it is a bad reaction to the pain medication, or he has picked up a virus. Since he's overdue for his medication, chances are that he caught a nosacomial virus. We'll have to keep a close eye on him. Even though it's not a serious illness, it could become more serious in someone who has been through so much."

"Then what do we do for treatment?" asked Splinter.

"I can give him something to help settle his stomach, but that's really all that can be done for now."

Donny groaned, making all three of them look up. His face was drawn into a grimace, but he remained unmoving save for his hands, drawn into white-knuckled fists.

Dr. Touresh checked his watch and made for the door. "Once he eats he can have his meds. I'll send in a nurse in fifteen minutes with something for him."

The door clicked closed and Mikey got up and rested a hand on Donny's shoulder. His skin was burning hot and panting like a dog. "Donny? You ok?"

Donatello grit his teeth and swallowed hard. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It... h-hurts," he groaned, squeezing his eyes tighter, "hurts s-so bad."

The searing pain was crushing down on him from all sides. It was hot, stifiling, he couldn't catch his breath- trapped... trapped in the dark, the pop of bone, scent of blood. A weight crushing him in, crushing him down, making it dark... He let out a throaty scream and grabbed a hold of his brother's hand, holding it hard, crushing it until he winced.

Mikey looked up at his father with worry knotted in his brow. "I don't think he can wait fifteen minutes," Mikey yelped when Don latched onto his hand. Wrenching free of his brother's death grip, he ran to the door and poked his head out into the hallway. "Can we get a nurse in here?"

Several minutes passed, filled by Don's weak cries and labored breathing. He'd latched onto Mikey's hand again, digging his nails into his brother's flesh. Five minutes had passed by the time Joy finally bounced in carrying a tray. She looked over to the bed and her happy expression immediately changed. "Oh Don, I'm so sorry. We didn't know it would wear off so soon!"

As Mikey and Splinter gently raised him to sit, Don's screams tore through the room. He grabbed onto the bed rails and howled, trying to brace himself. "M-make it stop!" He yelped. Fire was erupting in his chest, spreading through his ribcage, up his spine, through his arms and shoulders. He couldn't open his eyes, even when he felt his father's arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"My son, please," he begged, trying to stave away the pain. He wished he could take his son's afflictions into his own body. He was an old rat who had lived many years of good life. His son, nineteen, was too young to endure so much suffereing. He had so much living left to do, so much more to learn and see. At this moment, Splinter wished the world would function so. He brought his snout close to his son's ear and whispered "Calm yourself, Donatello. Panic will only highten the pain. Breathe, slowly."

Don struggled to slow his breath, peel his mind away from bad memories, from pain and fire and stone. His breath hitched in his throat, but gritting his teeth, he managed to open his eyes. Joy placed the tray on his lap, like a challenge. Every inch of him was telling him no. No, he couldn't do it. He shook his head and moaned, finding Mike's hand again.

"Come on, bro. It'll make you feel better."

He turned his eyes to the tray again, feeling them fill up with tears. With shaking hands, he picked up the milkshake and took three long gulps. A tear slowly rolling down his cheek as he swallowed. Then he took the pills, swallowing them dry before collapsing back into the pillows.

The nurse looked over to Splinter apologetically. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. We can't give him the meds without food or it'll give him an ulcer."

"It is alright," said Splinter, stroking his sobbing son's forehead. "Thank you, Miss Joy."

* * *

Three days later, Raphael was drifting in and out of reality again. He knew that as soon as things started to clear, they'd fill another syringe full of yellow liquid and shoot it into his arm. Then the lights would dim for a little while longer.

He hated that stuff. It made him feel heavy, like he was made of concrete stuck under water. It made the faces blur, colors bleed together. And sometimes, he would even see Leo standing there in the fog. He'd talk to him about random things he couldn't remember, just stupid stuff like they always used to. But sometimes, he would catch him thinking about the promise.

"_I know I promised you, Leo, but I just don't think I can keep it. There's something wrong with me. It's like I'm not right in the head. I feel angry all the time, and not like normal either. Now they got me drugged up so bad I can't even move, so I don't hurt nobody else."_

But Leo never said much. He would just nod and disappear. That always pissed him off. Always. Sometimes, his rage would run so white-hot, it'd feel like his blood was boiling in his brain, like he could tear someone apart limb from limb.

That morning they must have forgotten to give him his injection, because he slowly found the edges getting clearer, the weight getting lighter. He tried to play it cool, keep his eyes closed and his mouth shut so nobody would notice.

Someone had left the tv on. He could hear it, but his eyes were too blurry to see. It was on some news station and the reporter happened to have a particularly irritating voice.

_No, _he thought, _I gotta try ta control myself. _He swallowed back the urge to smash the tv to bits, and listened. It was Bishop's voice this time.

"…these medal of honor to our war heroes, the protectors of this planet against the evil of Emperor Xerxes, also known as the Shredder. Because of these four young heroes, our lives and the lives of our allies will be able to continue in peace. I award General Hamato Michelangelo and Private Cody Jones the medal of excellence for their outstanding achievement, their quick thinking, and their unending bravery on the battle field. Michelangelo will also be accepting medals for his three brothers fallen in the line of battle. To General Hamato Raphael and General Hamato Donatello, I present both the medal of excellence and the time-honored Purple Heart. As for those who have fallen, to General Hamato Leonardo, I present an award tailored to honor the life of this accomplished soldier. Here, I present the medal of crossed swords to honor a life lived by the edge of the blade. It is a small token compared to the sacrifice this young man made for his world, but I hope it will serve as a humble representation of his sacrifice."

The room was fading again. Raph could see Mikey and Cody on the tv. Mikey's teeth were fixed. He had no idea how long it had been since they'd put him to sleep.

When everything came into focus again, he blinked heavily at the flickering screen. He could hear Cody's voice pouring out of the television, and he ground his teeth together. He was the traitor. He was the reason for all of this. He did this. It was all his fault. Raph narrowed his eyes and glared at the tv, growling softly under his breath. He was trying to hold back, but it was getting harder to control.

Cody was making some flowery, gut-wrenching speech about Leo and everything that had happened to him. _Like he was there. Ha. All he did was bulldoze through the crowd for us in his stupid little battle suit. An' that was Leo's idea. He's nothin' but a coward. He's no hero. He's a fucking poser._

Raph clenched his fist and it hurt, a lot. He decided that he must have broken it, but he couldn't remember when. He wanted to wring that kid's scrawny neck. He wanted to feel it snap in his hands... his _hand_. As far as he was concerned, Cody was just as bad as the Shredder. He was just as responsible for everything that happened. He wanted to see him suffer for what he did. He wanted to see the lights go out of his eyes. He wanted him to cough up blood like Leo did. He wanted him to pay.

_Oh, He'll pay. Blood for blood, he will pay._

The reporter was talking again. "The funeral of General Leonardo will be held at the Veteran's Cemetery June 24th and will be televised on this station courtesy of O'Neil Tech Industries. So please join us again in two days to honor this fallen soldier."

Raph found himself shaking with rage and confusion. _Leo ain't dead… I just saw him. I talked to him just a minute ago…_

A noise at the left side of the room made him jump. He turned to face it and glared. A nurse had just come in with more of that yellow stuff in a syringe.

"Get outta here," he growled groggily, blinking his eyes clear.

The nurse looked stunned. She froze, holding the needle in her hand. But despite his warning, she still approached. Unsheathing the needle, she tried to put it into the catheter embeded in the back of his hand, but Raph grabbed her wrist and held it tight.

"Stay away from me with that shit. I don't want your goddam drugs."

But the nurse just stared at him, standing there like some stupid animal caught in the headlights, the needle still clutched in her hands. Raph pushed her backwards and she went reeling against the wall.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" he bellowed, sitting up fast in his bed. Right after he had done it, he knew he would regret it. And sure enough, he could feel the vertigo setting in. He leaped out of bed in spite of it.

"GET OUT!" he roared. He had no idea how long they had been keeping him asleep, but he definitely felt stronger than he'd before. He felt that he could stave off the dizziness for just a while longer, just to get his point across. "I don't want any of that fucking shit again. Just leave me alone!"

He picked up the tv and ripped its cord from the wall, killing the image that played on its screen. Lifting it high above him, he hurled it at the stupefied nurse who ran out of the room just in time. The screen smashed to pieces on the door frame just as she slammed it behind her.

Exhausted, Raph could feel himself going limp again, the weight of the world pressing down on him. Slowly, he crawled back into bed and surrendered to the darkness once again.


	13. Chapter 13: Hidden Truths

_EDITED VERSION 11/7/09_

Chapter 13: Hidden Truth

After the award ceremony, Bishop had put together an extravagant dinner in their honor. The story of the war on Atun was flying through the news on every station and making headliners for weeks on end. But all the publicity, all the fame, all the people recognizing his face never made Mikey feel any better about everything that had happened. When people saw him, heard the story on the television, they believed the battle had been won. They believed that the fight was over and life could go on. But for he and his brothers, the war still raged in every corner, haunted every shadow of their lives.

They had killed, slaughtered hundreds, butchered their bodies, bathed in their blood. And though the Shredder had fallen, though the killing was done, the shadows never lifted. The battle was never won. Now they fought a different fight, a war that went unseen, unspoken, in the shadow of their victory.

_But did we really win? I__s it really over?_

He sat on the steps outside the party house, just listening to the chink of dishes, the buzz of pleasant conversation. They were all there for him, for his brothers, but he found that being amidst all those adoring people was the last thing he could have wanted. As he turned the idea of victory over in his mind, he found that no matter how he looked at it, the war would never end. They would carry the scars and the ghosts with them forever. The memories would never leave them alone. He only wished that so much hadn't changed.

He had been talking to Donatello a lot lately, even when he was too sick to listen. But no matter what, he always did listen. Sometimes it felt weird talking to him. Ever since they were little, Leo was paired with Don and Raph stuck with him like glue. Best buds. But now Raph didn't even want to be near another living person, and he was left alone.

He looked forward to his conversations with Don, even if most of the time he was the only one doing the talking. But no matter what he said, it always felt good to have at least one person in his life that hadn't changed. Though his body was broken, his spirit remained untouched. He still was the same old Don, caring more about others than he did for himself. He was the sickest he had ever been in his entire life, and he still had time to listen. He still tried to hide the pain, the weakness, just so Mikey wouldn't be worried. For a while he had had him fooled, but three days ago when the pain pills had worn off, Mike had made the hard realization that even though Don acted the same as he always had, he was in a lot more pain than he led on. The gruesome scars that twisted through his brother's shell, betrayed by white bandages, would always be a stark reminder of the pain Don left untold.

Mikey buried his face in his hands and found his mind drifting back to Raph. There was something seriously wrong with him, but he tried his best to ignore it for the time. He used his visits with Don as his excuse for not visiting him. But in all reality he knew the reason he never came was that he wanted to help, but Raph just wouldn't let him. It was painfully frustrating to see him consumed by his anger, sedated to near unconsciousness because he couldn't control himself. He hurt people. He hurt himself.

All the times Raph had lost his temper, he had always known where to draw the line. He always had come out of it without going too far. But this time it never ended. This time he did go too far. There was something very wrong, and it scared him to the core. Mikey felt like he was the only one left in the world who remembered Raph the way he used to be, not just seeing him as this monster he'd become. He had to help his brother, whether he liked it or not. He had to help him remember who he used to be.

Suddenly, the ringing of his shell cell snapped him back to reality. He picked it up and examined the screen only to see a number he didn't recognize.

"Hello?" he said reluctantly.

"Hello, this is Dr. Kenneth Reid, the Dean of Medicine at New Manhattan Medical Center. I need to speak to you about your brother Raphael."

A wave of panic washed over him as he listened to the emotionless voice on the other end of the line. Deadpan. He knew that whatever the man would say, it wouldn't be good.

"Raph? What about him?"

"Raphael has caused another disturbance. My staff has voiced multiple concerns about their own safety. Upon request of Dr. Hall, I need to ask you to come and collect him immediately."

"You're kicking him out? What did he do?"

"He has brutally attacked another nurse and now our hospital staff has decided entering his room is a direct threat to their well-being. The sedative has now passed through his system and no one will dare try to administer it again."

"But he's not supposed to go home until this weekend."

"I am asking you to collect him now, or I will have him sent to a place that can better accommodate his needs."

"You mean like a psych ward, don't you."

"That's what I'm implying, yes."

"No! You can't do that. Gimme twenty minutes. I'll come down there and try to talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to me."

"At this point, I cannot allow him to continue to endanger the lives of my staff. I ask you to come as soon as possible, but I need him out of here by the morning."

"Fine!" He hissed sharply, hanging up the phone before the doctor could even finish his sentence. _That Dr. Hall really is an asshole. _

He slammed the phone on the concrete step and left it there, not caring if anyone tried to call him ever again. He stood and ran swiftly inside to find Master Splinter.

* * *

When the three of them made it to Raph's room, they were greeted by three stern-looking middle aged men. Mikey recognized one of them as Dr. Hall, but the other faces were unfamiliar. Immediately, Cody took charge of the situation and Mikey resented him for it. But the stubborn boy had insisted on coming along and was determined to make things right. It was obvious that he was beating himself up for their situation, but the young-minded boy had no concept of what was helping and what only made things worse.

"What's the problem here?" He demanded, "because if there's a problem, I can look into my monthly donation to this hospital. I'm not sure if O'Neil Enterprises can afford it anymore. You know, budget changes...."

The man standing at the center of the three frowned and said "Look, I know who you are and I know your company contributes a significant amount of money to this hospital, but at this point, I would rather suffer the loss of income than keep this miscreant in my hospital any longer."

"Your hospital wouldn't last a day without my donations," he hissed, but Mikey pushed him aside before any more damage could be done.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I know Raph's been a little difficult lately, but cut the guy a break. He's going though a lot."

"You're brother is being more than just a little difficult," seethed the red-faced Dr. Hall. "He's constantly harassing the hospital staff, he refuses to be treated, and he has caused the hospital thousands of dollars in property damage."

Mikey rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that, but maybe after I talk to him he'll snap out of it. Just give me a minute and I…"

But Master Splinter had raised his hand, calling for silence. He looked toward his son apologetically and said "Maybe it is best that he come home. He obviously is not doing well here. Perhaps it would be better for him to be surrounded by something more familiar."

"Thank you, Mr. Hamato," Dr. Reid nodded gratefully. "If you are preparing to take him now, I would like you to speak to Dr. Weston first. Dr. Weston is our resident psychologist and he has gotten a chance to study Raphael's condition. He would like to share some ideas to share with you that might help ease your son's transition."

Master Splinter nodded and allowed the awkward-looking Dr. Weston to escort him into a nearby vacant room, followed closely behind by Cody and Michelangelo. But before they could get too far, Mikey turned toward Cody and spoke, a bitter tone laced within his voice. "Maybe you should wait in the car."

Cody's eyes narrowed as that familiar stubborn look crept across his face. "Yeah, whatever. I screwed up, I know." But then a look of anguish emerged behind his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mikey" he said, starting to make his way back down the hall. "I'm really sorry for this, for everything."

But Mike said nothing, only squared his jaw and turned his back on the boy. If forgiveness was what he was looking for, he wouldn't find it here. Without even a trace of guilt, he walked into the empty room behind Splinter, leaving the boy alone in the sterile hallway.

* * *

Dr. Weston was a thin-faced, weak looking man with unkempt blond hair and a nervous sideways smile. He shifted from one foot to another as he talked to the rat and his son about Raphael's present situation.

"I've been looking at your brother's files and I found that there have been several instances where he's harassed hospital personnel and three separate occasions where he has inflicted injury. His violent outbursts have suggested to me that Raphael has undergone some sort of mental and emotional trauma." His green eyes looked thoughtfully to Master Splinter. "How would you describe your son's personality as a whole?"

The old rat sighed before he replied. "Raphael has always been a passionate person with a very short temper. But even when he became angered for some reason or another, he always exercised self-control. He has never intentionally harmed an innocent person. I cannot explain this sudden change in his personality. It is quite... unsettling."

The doctor nodded. "Being through as much as he has, it does not surprise me that Raphael is suffering from emotional and psychological disorder. Now that he can no longer stay here, it will be a heavy burden to bear alone. But I do have some prescriptions that may ease his suffering and aid you in getting him help."

The doctor withdrew to bottles of pills from his coat pocket. He held the larger bottle up, filled with large yellow tablets and explained "These are tranquilizers that will help him rest a little easier." he held up the smaller bottle, this time filled with small blue pills. "These are anti-psychotics that may help him with some of the issues he is facing. Give these to him twice a day and call me if you see any changes. There could be side affects, so watch him closely and notify me immediately if you see any drastic change in his personality."

Splinter nodded, taking the plastic bottles of pills.

"He had his first round this morning, and I hope we will see some improvement. I would also recommend that you try to get him some further treatment. The pills alone will not cure him. These things take time. If you find yourself unable to meet his needs, I would keep in mind the idea of checking him into a facility."

"A facility?" Mikey interjected, glaring his challenge to the timid doctor. "Raph doesn't need those stupid pills. He doesn't need to be put in some psych ward. This is just Raph. He has a short fuse. He'll snap out of it any minute now."

"Michelangelo, please," Splinter pleaded quietly, but his son wouldn't listen.

"Why do you keep drugging him? Why is everyone so scared? He isn't the monster you think he is. He isn't some animal you can just send away. He's a person. He deserves to be treated like a person." He turned to Master Splinter. "You gotta let me talk to him," he pleaded.

Master Splinter sighed and gazed at his son with sadness behind his eyes. Michelangelo would never rest until he did everything he could to help. He needed to do this. He needed to realize that this was what is best for Raphael. "If it will ease your mind, go speak to your brother. I will wait to make my decision."

Mikey's look of desperation was replaced by a determination. He just knew he could prove them wrong.

"Go now," the old rat said, dismissing him from the conversation. "I will be here when you return. I hope you will find the answers you are searching for. I know you will find in your heart what you believe is right."

"Thank you, Sensei" Mike said gratefully, bowing quickly and hurrying out the door. "I'll be right back."

* * *

Mikey pressed his ear up to the door before entering Raph's room. He didn't hear anything moving inside, so he opened it cautiously and walked in. He looked to his brother's bed, only to find it empty. Scanning the room, he came across his darkened shape, silhouetted by the blue twilight pouring in from the window.

He turned when he heard him approach. His sad eyes gazed at him slowly, scanning every feature.

"Leo?" He asked.

"No, it's me, Raph. You know that."

"Oh... right," he murmured quietly, turning back to the window.

Mikey stared at his brother a little longer until he could gather enough courage to break the silence. "Are... are you okay?"

He didn't answer. He didn't even peel his eyes away from the window.

"They're sending you home Raph. Do you know why?"

Raph sighed, pressing his only hand against the cool window glass and hung his head low. "Because I'm a monster," he whispered.

"You're not a monster. You just need to tell me what's wrong so I can help you. Please. You got to let us help you."

"I don't wanna talk," he growled.

"You got to tell me what's going on. Why won't you talk to me?"

There was a long pause. Raphael stared out the window into the twilight, contemplating the concrete that covered the ground below.

"Raph, please," he begged.

"You want me to talk. Fine. I'll talk. I'd tell you what's wrong with me, but I don't know. I just can't stop bein' angry no more. It's like it just won't go away." He turned to his brother with heart-breaking desperation in his eyes. "What's wrong with me?"

He had caught his brother by surprise. Mikey stared into his eyes and stammered. "I…I don't know."

"Tell me what's wrong with me!" He bellowed, taking a challenging step closer to his brother's shape, feeling the anger creeping back, washing over him like a sickening tide.

"Raph, please…."

Raphael took a hold of his Mike's shoulder, his face only inches away from his, and snarled. "I can't control it," he whispered harshly, eyes scanning the room as if searching for some hidden foe. "No matter what I do I can't control it!"

Mikey closed his eyes tightly as Raph screamed in his face. His heart pounded in his ears and beat ferociously in his chest.

Raph turned back towards the window and braced himself on its frame. "Somebody's gotta help me. Somebody… HELP ME!" He screamed into the window glass, his hot breath creeping across its surface like a fog. Feeling his heart racing and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he lifted his fist and slammed it through the window, shattering it into glittering fragments that cut and pierced. Shards of glass fell and shattered on the pavement below while the remainder stayed embedded in his knuckles.

Mikey watched, stunned, as his brother stood there bleeding, but he didn't even look at the wounds. The sharp crystal shards were buried under his skin, but he was too numbed by his anger, every nerve ablaze. He turned back to his brother, eyes narrowed.

"But you can't help me, can you."

Mikey shook his head. "No, that's not true. We're going to take you home. You'll be home in time for the funeral now. You'll be fine after you're home with us for a while."

Raph was staring out of the broken window, clutching the windowsill, allowing the glass to burrow deeper into his flesh. The blood trickled along the side of the wall and sent down a crimson drip that fell and fell, five stories down, before it finally spattered thickly onto the pavement.

"I'm not going home," he muttered.

"What do you mean? The Dean of Medicine is kicking you out right now," he stammered, but his confusion suddenly turned to horror when he discovered exactly what his brother had implied. He was heaving himself out the window, but there was no nearby window ledge to land on. There was no rooftop to catch his fall. The drop that lay outside his window was a sheer fifty foot plummet down onto the concrete parking lot. Mikey leaped onto his brother's figure and pulled him backward, sending them both tumbling onto the floor.

"Raph, no! What were you thinking?"

"I'm goin' home, Leo. Enough a' this shit! 'M goin' where I belong!" He sobbed angrily. He released himself from Mikey's grasp and tried to make for the window again. But Mikey grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back.

"Leo's dead, Raph, and this's crazy!"

"SHUT UP!" he roared. "He's not dead! Lemme go!" He reached around and slammed his fist hard into his brother's face, making him see stars when as he blinked it back. But he refused to let go.

"Get offa me you son of a bitch!" He screamed, struggling violently in his brother's arms.

"I'm not letting go! I can't let you do it. You're gonna hurt yourself!"

But Raph had other plans. With a violent kick to the plastron, he slammed his brother onto the ground and leaped at his throat. Kneeling on his chest, Raph squeezed his throat hard as Mikey gasped for air. He glared down at his brother with venom in his eyes, but then, his look suddenly changed. The fire was snuffed out like a flame.

"Ain't that the point?"

All emotion drained from his voice. His grip slackened and released. He pushed himself off his brother and his eyes searched the room, looking lost. Walking slowly to the far corner of the room, he stopped and sat on the floor, cloaked beneath the darkness.

"I can't do it," he murmured, hugging his knees to his chest. "I know I promised you, but I can't." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

Mike's heart was in his throat. "What're you talking about?"

Raph turned his head and glared. "I'm not talking to you. Butt out."

With a small trace of terror tingling in his spine, Mike suddenly felt sick, horrified at the disturbing revelation. "You're not... talking to Leo, are you?"

"Who the hell do you think I'm talking to?" He snapped.

"Nobody's there, Raph."

"Shut up. You're lying," he retorted fiercely.

"Leo's dead. His funeral is Sunday and you're gonna go. So snap out of it. You're acting like you've gone crazy or something."

As much as he would like to deny it, Raph knew his brother had to be telling the truth. He had it on the news that day, but wouldn't let himself see it. He would rather be blind than relive the night his brother's life left him. He had died right there in his arms, and as hard as he tried to push it into the back of his mind, that memory would never go away.

Until now, he didn't want to believe it. Until now, he had seen his brother in his dreams, lurking in the shadows. But all of it... was just a lie. None of this was real. Then a thought passed through his mind. _Maybe I really am goin' crazy._

He blinked hard and let reality seep in. Looking toward Mikey's figure, standing there like some idiot statue, he could feel hot anger rising within him again. He didn't want to face reality. He didn't want to know the truth.

"Why are you doing this to me!?" He screamed, standing from his spot in the corner. "I don't want it to be like this, Mike. Just leave me alone. I don't wanna talk to you, I don't wanna talk to nobody!"

"They're gonna lock you up, Raph, put you in some psych ward, give you a bunch of pills to make you different! You need to get a grip and stop acting this way. You're scaring everybody. Master Splinter's worried sick and if Don knew, he would be too."

"Good!" He roared. "Then maybe everybody will just leave me alone. I don't care what you guys think. I'm gonna do what I hafta to get by on my own. I don't need you guys. I don't need nobody!"

"You need help Raph. Look at yourself!"

Raphael stared hard at his brother's face and then looked down to the small pool of blood on the floor. It had dripped from his knuckles where the window glass had embedded. His hand shook violently with rage and fear as he studied the damage. But all he could see was the red flame of hate clouding his vision. "I don't fucking care what I look like! I don't give a shit if I'm angry all the time. This is how I am. This is me. Take it or leave it."

Mikey shook his head. "No, Raph. This isn't you. This's never been you. There's something wrong and I can see it. You're not the same big brother that always used to look out for me. You're not the same big brother I remember trying to cheer me up after you teased me too much. I just want my brother back, Raphie. Please."

The sadness in his brother's voice melted away a little of the anger in his heart. He unclenched his fist and breathed a little slower now, but he wasn't ready to give up.

"No Mikey. I ain't the same person I was. Too much's changed. I don't think I can be the same as I usta be."

"Yeah you can," Mikey said with determination. "I know you're still the same under all of this. I know you're still my brother."

"I…I can't," he stammered, fighting back the rage that threatened to build. "I can't be what you want me ta be Mikey. Everything's different now." His eyes narrowed into a fiery glare. "Just look at me, Mikey. Just look at me! How do you ever expect me ta be the same when I'm like this? How do you expect me ta fight? How do you expect me ta do all the things I used to. I can't do it anymore. I just can't!"

Looking for anything, any intimidate object to smash and quell the anger, he grabbed a hold of the side of the wooden dresser and tipped it over, sending it colliding hard with the ground. It broke into splinters at his feet.

"This's who I am now. Deal with it!"

Michelangelo stood stock still, he felt like time had frozen around him. He had thought he was breaking through to him, but every time he got close, Raph just chased him away. The sudden changes in his personality scared him. He was as unpredictable as a thunderstorm, ready to strike down anyone who crossed his path. It was like he was stuck in the middle of a rift, just drifting between anger, confusion, and depression. He still couldn't believe he had tried to kill himself. He couldn't believe that Raph didn't think he could change.

"I'm going to get you help," Mike murmured, staring at the pieces of the fractured dresser that littered the floor. "I'm going to do what's right."

* * *

Mikey slipped back into the quiet room and the door clicked softly behind him. He stood there for a while, meeting his master's gaze, but had to look away when he saw the pain that lingered behind them.

"Give him the pills," he whispered, looking down toward the floor. The old rat nodded and stared down at the plastic bottles clutched in his hands.

When Mikey turned to leave, he stopped him. "What has happened, my son?"

Mikey felt his defenses weakening. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to tell him about the anger he had seen in his brother's eyes when he gripped his hand around his throat. He wanted to tell his father about the window, about the glass, but he couldn't. He knew it would break his heart, and he didn't know how much more the old rat could take.

"He just isn't the same," Mike said slowly.

Splinter studied his son's face. He knew there was something troubling him that he left unspoken. The look of terror in his eyes betrayed his inner fears, but the old rat knew he would have to accept it for now. _The truth will come in time,_ he thought to himself, _he will speak when he feels he is ready. _He didn't want to pressure Michelangelo into telling him, but the worry of not knowing had already begun eating a hole inside of him.

Mikey tried to smile, but he just couldn't seem to get the muscles in his face to cooperate. He needed to tell somebody fast before he had a breakdown.

"Tell me when you want to bring him home. I'm going to see Don before we leave."

"As you wish," said the old rat. "I desire to be alone with my thoughts for a time anyway."

As Michelangelo left the room, the door clicked softly behind him and everything was quiet for at least a little while.


	14. Chapter 14: Sounds of Silence

Chapter 14: Sound of Silence

"Donny?" Mikey whispered as quietly as he could muster through the crack in the door. The lights were turned off and no motion came from within. He thought his brother might be sleeping.

But at the sound of his brother's voice, Donny's eyes flew open. He wanted to react, but every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He could feel his stomach churn at the effort, making him wince at the pain that was convincing him to lie still.

"You asleep?" came the voice from the door again.

"No." He hated the way his voice sounded. He wished he could hide the pain it held, the weakness that made it waver, but he was just too sick to try. He closed his eyes tight and swallowed hard. "You can turn on the lights if you want to."

The light from the hallway poured in as Mikey opened the door wide and swung it shut behind him. Taking his seat by his brother's bed, he flicked on the lamp on the table beside him. Don was glad he had chosen the dim light and not the fiercely bright fluorescent lights overhead. His eyes hurt just to look around the room, but the fluorescent lights made them sear with pain.

"Whoa, you don't look so good Donny." He put his hand on his brother's forehead, as if it would do him any good. He was hot, really hot, and he'd kicked away his covers god knows how long ago. He stood and pulled the sheet back over him before Don could protest.

"It's okay. I'll be fine. I always get sick and I always get over it just fine." But Mikey's look of concern didn't fade, even after Donny threw him the best don't-worry-so-much smile he could muster. Unable to control himself, Don coughed quietly. His throat was on fire from throwing up so much, and his stomach twisted again. He instinctually closed his eyes and winced, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"You're stomach still hurt, Donny?"

Swallowing hard, Don nodded. He wished that oily churning feeling would pass. He hated when Mikey looked at him that way.

"You gunna throw up?"

"No," he said taking a deep breath as the wave of nausea passed. "I'm ok Mikey, really. Stop worrying so much. You're starting to look like Master Splinter." A sheepish smile spread across his face, infecting his brother with a fit of giggles.

"Wow, thanks for telling me," he chuckled. "It would be a shame to waste these good looks."

Now Don was laughing too, making his stomach do back flips. The pain made him stop, but this time he was determined not to wince. He held on to his smile as he grit his teeth and bore it, for Mikey's sake. He hadn't seen his brother laugh in a long time and he thought he deserved it after doing so much worrying..

Amidst all the joking, Mikey nearly forgot what he had come to talk to his brother about. It was amazing how infectious Donny's optimism was. His expression changed and the laughter stopped as he looked at his brother, so gaunt and paler than before. Sweat dotted his brow and his eyes had a haunting sunken-in quality. Mikey felt terrible that he had to use his sick brother as some kind of therapist. It made him feel selfish and cruel, but he had to get it off his chest, and he had no one else to turn to.

It was Donny's curse, his unfortunate lack of personal flaws. He was honest and selfless, patient and kind. Mikey had never talked to anyone that listened to him so intently. He had never met someone who was as free of judgment and cruelty as Don. Even Master Splinter always seemed to be judging him, but Don never said a word. And he wasn't ready to tell Splinter about everything that had happened yet anyway. He sank back into the chair. "Donny, I have to tell you something… about Raph."

Donny's eyes widened when he saw the look of fear mixed with sadness on his brother's face. "What happened?"

"I talked to him, just now, and…" Mikey's eyes were glittering in the dim light. Don couldn't tell if they were swimming with tears or it was just the fever playing tricks on his eyes.

"…he's just so…different. It's like he can't even control himself anymore. It's like he's lost and looking for a way out, but every time he gets close, he gets angry and pushes everyone away. I tried to help him, but he wouldn't let me."

"What kind of things is he doing? Raph never showed much self control anyway. Are you sure he just isn't going through one of his tantrums? Maybe he'll stop if you give him a while."

Mikey shook his head solemnly. "No, he's been like this for weeks. And he isn't just angry, he's really sad too. He keeps thinking he sees Leo. When I first walked in, he thought I was him, and a little bit later he was having a conversation with him. He just sat in the corner and was talking to the air like he saw someone standing in front of him."

Don sighed, turning his head to look up at the ceiling. "Wow. That's... that's horrible. Poor Raph." He turned his face back to Mikey. "What about the sedatives?"

"He wouldn't let anyone get close enough to give it to him anymore. They're kicking him out of the hospital today."

"Well that hardly seems fair."

"Oh it's fair alright. He's been hurting all these nurses left and right. He even punched a doctor in the face and broke his nose. You should have seen his room. He's broken practically everything in it."

Tears filled his eyes and he looked up to the ceiling, trying to forbid them from falling. "He tried to hurt me. Even as hurt as he is, he could of killed me. I knew he would have done it, too. I saw it in his eyes." He turned to his brother. "Donny," he whispered, "I'm scared."

Mikey rubbed his neck by his throat and Don saw the purple bruises forming there. He watched his brother's face, fighting back his tears in the half-light and wished he could see the laughter return to it, that brightness that used to light up a room. But he kept it hidden now, deep beneath his skin. He frowned as he asked himself _what else has Raph broken, Mikey? _The pain and worry was obviously eating him up inside. _He's not the only one who's changed._

"They're giving him pills now. I just hope they'll help him." He sighed deeply and stared at his hands resting in his lap. "I worry about him, you know. I just want everything to go back to the way it used to be."

Donny closed his eyes and talked to the ceiling above him. "I worry about him too, Mikey." He opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "And I worry about you."

Mikey's eyes slowly met Don's. The look of sorrow they held broke his heart. "Donny, please, no."

"You're not the only one, Mikey. I can worry too."

"No, you can't. You're supposed to rest. Don't think about it, don't…" He got up from his seat and made his way to the door. "I shouldn't even be talking to you. I'm sorry. I'll come back later. Just rest, you look like hell."

"Mikey…wait," he begged. His brother's silhouette in the hallway light stopped and turned. "It's ok…"

"What are you talking about Don?"

"I know you beat yourself up about it, Mikey, but it's ok."

He turned away quickly and brace himself against the door frame. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Don tried to prop himself up so he could have a better look at his brother, but he quickly found he couldn't. His eyes strained as he tried to see him through the darkness. "You couldn't have helped me. I know you tried. I heard you trying to lift it off. Nobody could have done it. The damage was already done."

Mikey rested his head on the door frame, his voice full of tears as he spoke. "I-I'm so sorry Donny."

For a while, the two sat in silence, trying to fight back the stream of tears that stung their eyes and stained their cheeks.

"Don't be sorry. Please, don't be."

Mikey turned to face his brother, hot tears falling down his face. "How could I not be sorry?" he sobbed, a trace of anger creeping into his voice. "It's my fault, Donny. I shouldn't have jumped out of the way. I shouldn't have just left you there. I knew you weren't going to move. I'm selfish, Don. I've done it before, let people take the blows that were meant for me. I make them suffer. I made you suffer. It's all my fault, I made you…this way."

Don shook his head. "No, Mikey. That's not how it works."

"Come over here and sit down," Don said, motioning to his brother. Reluctantly, Mikey crossed the room and took his seat, refusing to look his brother in the eye.

"Being… this way… is probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

Mikey turned to look at his brother, shock and confusion shining through the tears.

Don sighed as he brought up the memory that he had revisited many times since they had returned from Atun. Every time he thought about it, it made his heart ache with sadness. "The last time I talked to Leo…before this all happened… he told me something I just can't forget." He looked at Mikey again and saw how desperately he was clinging to his words. "He said that… one day, our lives would stop throwing us curves and I wouldn't have to fight anymore, that I could just work in the lab all day and never have to hurt anyone ever again." He paused, letting the words soak in. "Then it seemed so far away, but now, I think I've finally been thrown a curve I can handle."

He smiled sadly and watched the tears roll slowly down his brother's cheeks. "I'm not ever going to fight again, not because I can't, but because I want to."

After a long silence, Mikey sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I-I have to go" he muttered, walking towards the door and clicking it softly behind him.

* * *

Mikey stormed into the bathroom down the hall and braced himself against the cold, damp counter. Breathing deeply, he stared at himself hard in the mirror. He could feel that suffocating feeling creeping in again, like something was crushing down on him from on all sides.

Hands shaking, he ran the tap and splashed cold water on his face. His eyes were still red when he looked in the mirror again.

_How can he be like that? How can he still think of everyone but himself?_

Mikey shook his head at his reflection.

_You are selfish, aren't you._

He closed his eyes tight and pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the mirror, and sat there for a while, waiting for the red in his eyes to fade.

_I can't be selfish anymore. I need to take care of them._

Then he remembered, he was supposed to be waiting for Master Splinter to call him on his shell cell, but he had left it on the steps at the party. With panic rising into his throat, he booked down the hall to where Splinter said he would be waiting.

When he came to the room, the old rat was there, just as he had promised. In fact, he looked like he hadn't even changed positions since he had left him. He probably had been meditating.

When Mikey crept silently into the room, Splinter peered at him from one eye and closed it again. "Michelangelo, you did not have your phone with you" he chided.

"Yeah," he mumbled, taking the stiff chair that rested against the opposite wall. "I'm sorry, Sensei."

"No matter," said the rat, opening his eyes. "How is Donatello?"

"He looks pretty bad."

The old rat sighed wearily. "I shall have to go to see him in the morning, but now we must take your brother home."

Mikey nodded.

"The medication seems to have improved his mind," he said thoughtfully. "I spoke with him a few minutes before you arrived and he appears to be much more tranquil."

"That's good," said Mikey, feigning a smile that would never fool a soul.

"I have Mister Jones waiting with a vehicle downstairs. Are you ready, my son?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good," he said, standing from his chair and heading toward the door. "Then let us go home."

* * *

Mikey opened the door slowly and searched the room again, only to find Raph staring out the broken window in the same spot he had been before. The breeze that poured out tossed the tails of his mask behind him as he stared down to the concrete. Mikey shuttered and stepped back, letting Master Splinter enter the room before him.

"Raphael. It is time to leave," said Splinter.

He expected him to lash out, he expected him to shoot them an evil glare, he expected him to leap at his throat again, but what Mikey didn't expect was for Raph to turn from the window without a word and follow them quietly down the hallway.

His eyes never left the floor, his lips never uttered a sound as they checked out and walked down to the parking lot. He got into the car without a fight, and sat there, unmoving, just staring out the window.

The entire ride home, Raph's eyes were glued to the world that passed him by on the other side of the glass, and Mikey's eyes were fixed on his brother in disbelief. He watched the lights pass over his face, the glowing headlights of the cars that rushed by, the light of street lamps, but never did his expression change. Never did he turn away.

After the long, silent car ride, they arrived at O'Neil tech and took the elevator up to the penthouse on the highest floor. Going up and up for way too long, a trip that seemed to take eons. And Raph remained silent. Mikey couldn't help but stare.

They opened the door to the apartment, the home that did not feel like home, and without a sound, Raphael made his way up the stairs to his room and shut the door. No one followed him, no one spoke.

Feeling a small rush of relief pass over him, Mikey plopped down onto the couch with a sigh and flicked on the tv, paying no attention to the images playing across the oversized screen. _It must just be the meds,_ Mikey thought, _nothing serious. Maybe it's better this way. At least he isn't smashing stuff. Don told you not to worry anyway._

But something deep inside him wouldn't stop screaming in his head, clawing at the deepest corners of his mind. _Something isn't right!_ it screamed. _Do something! Do anything! _The voices plagued his dreams, tore viscously at his soul, as he fell into a restless sleep upon the couch in the quiet room, bathed in the dim light of the television's haunting blue glow.


	15. Chapter 15: Sorrow of the Crossed Blades

Chapter 15: Sorrow of the Crossed Blades

Mikey awoke with a satisfying stretch and opened his eyes sleepily to the sun drenched room. He was still on the couch where he had drifted off the night before; where restless dreams had taken hold. But after a while, the dreams had faded into night and he slept deeply and soundly. It reminded him that he was spending far too much time at that hospital.

Then he remembered Raph. The fact that he had spent the night on the couch undisturbed proved that he had kept to himself up in his room all night long. _Maybe Raph's tired too _he thought. But he didn't want to spoil his morning figuring out if his brother was still in the slump he had left him in the day before.

He got up from the couch and breathed deeply, letting the tension unwind itself from his shoulders. Chasing away the demons that haunted the back of his brain, he shook them off and sauntered into the empty kitchen. He squinted at the clock and let his sleepy eyes focus in on the time. Gasping slightly when it was revealed. _Oh my god, it's eleven thirty._

For the nineteen years he'd been alive, Michelangelo could never remember a time he'd been allowed to sleep that late. He felt a little guilty as he peered out the window. The day had already halfway passed him by. The bright sun that poured across the cityscape proved the afternoon's arrival.

Then it hit him like a semi truck. Today is Leo's funeral.

Looking around, he wondered if he was alone. He knew Cody would be making the preparations. The whole thing had been his idea anyway. While everyone was stuck in the hospital in one way or another, Cody had taken it upon himself to make all the arrangements. It was obvious the kid felt like he had to make it up to Leo, to the entire family. He'd made sure that none of them had to lift a finger. And honestly, none of them even knew what he had in mind.

Mikey hoped he would keep it simple. That's what Leo would have wanted. But listening to the tv reporter announcing the whole thing would be televised made him believe that there was no chance of that. He felt like anything bigger than just the family would be too much, but Cody was extravagant. He had a lot of money to throw around, and he had piles of guilt he was trying to bury beneath it all.

Listening to the deafening quiet that gripped the penthouse, Mikey ate his cereal alone in the sunlight dripping from the window. After a while, he even found himself enjoying the quiet. It had been a long time since he'd been this long away from the sterile hallways and the smell of antiseptic. Being alone in the sun-lit kitchen, watching his cereal floating across his bowl was much more calming than sitting on the rickety old dock by the polluted harbor. He sighed deeply and chased a Fruit Loop with his spoon.

But when he heard a noise upstairs he quickly escaped the trance he had been locked into with his cereal. He looked up, half expecting Master Splinter, but he knew he was probably gone to see Donatello. "Raph?" he whispered, trying to force his voice not to quiver. But silence was his only answer.

Putting his spoon back on the table he got up and made his way out of the kitchen, abandoning the remainder of his cereal. He poked his head out of the room and saw only emptiness. He tread up the stairs, listening hard for any other sound, but nothing came. Passing the doors along the hallway, one after another, he came to Raph's room, feeling a chill cascading down his spine. He tried to walk past, to look the other way, but he froze. He just couldn't. He'd been avoiding his brother for far too long. He put his hand shakily on the door handle and slowly pressed it open.

Inside, the room was as quiet as the rest of the house, a swallowing black emptiness drenched in sunlight. A shaft of light poured in from the windows, making his brother appear to be nothing more than a shadow himself.

"Raph?" he whispered quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Without a word, Raph turned his head slowly and looked back at him with lightless eyes. Silently, he turned back towards the window.

_What is it with him and windows? _Mikey asked himself. After staring at his solemn brother for a moment, he took a step backward and began to slowly shut the door behind him. But the sound of Raph's voice made him stop.

"Why does it hafta be so sunny?" he asked flatly, never turning away from the window.

"I don't know, Raph," he said, breathing deeply to calm his nerves, the screaming in his head. "I don't know."

He the door click shut behind him and leaned heavily against the wall outside the room, fighting to stop his heart from pounding. He was still deathly afraid of his brother, and the bruises at his throat remembered the reason well. But now there was no sign of the Raph he feared. Instead lingered behind the door was a shell, a hollow part of his brother he didn't recognize. He knew that something had to be terribly wrong.

* * *

The images on the tv screen gave him no comfort as he flipped from station to station for what seemed like eons, never finding anything that caught his interest, never lingering for more than a moment, mostly because he couldn't force himself to pay attention.

_What's wrong with him? _Mikey thought _I've never seen him this way before._

The tv flickered onto the news station and his finger froze from its incessant clicking. He lingered there for a moment, listening to the reporter talk about something that again didn't hold his interest. His eyes drifted down to the bottom of the screen and focused on the tiny clock in the corner. _Two o'clock. Leo's funeral is in three hours._

He felt like he was made of concrete, like his limbs were stiff and rigid. He watched the minutes pass on the tiny clock, each second ticking closer to a time he wished would never come to pass.

He wondered what was taking his Sensei so long to get there, because he hoped that he wouldn't have to go alone. Mikey knew Splinter would come before he had to leave, but being stuck alone in the empty apartment made his thoughts drift to places he didn't want them to go.

Ever since they had come home, he had been more concerned about his brothers than with thinking about the loss of Leo. It hadn't crept up to him until now, caught alone with no distractions, nothing to prevent the grief from washing over him wave after passing wave. It tore his heart out to know that he would never see his big brother again, never hear his voice. He even missed the lectures, the humiliation of a brutal shell-kicking. Because everything that Leo did was out of the goodness of his heart. He had given Mikey the extra training sessions because he knew he wanted to do better. He saw the potential in him, the ability no one else could see.

Leo had always seen the best in him, but now that he was gone, Mikey wasn't sure if there was anything good left in himself. He wanted so badly for his big brother to make it right again, to tell Raph to snap out of it and Don not to worry. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so much weight burdening his shoulders. Maybe then things would finally go back to the way everything should be.

The sound of the elevator doors sliding open made him jump, flicking off the tv.

"Michelangelo?"

"In here, Sensei."

When he hobbled into the room, the old rat looked like all the life had been leeched out of him. He leaned on his cane more heavily now, walked more slowly than before. The corners of his mouth were drawn down into a permanent frown and anyone could imagine the deep-set lines that lay just below his fur. He eased himself onto the sofa next to his son, still clutching the walking stick balanced between his knees.

"How's Donny?" Michelangelo asked, losing the battle to keep his voice from wavering just a little.

"He is very ill," sighed Splinter, gazing at his walking stick. "After the funeral is finished, we must go to him. He needs his family at his side."

Mikey nodded, staring straight ahead of him, eyes focusing on nothing. And there they sat in the enveloping silence, just pondering the tiny fragments of what was left of their damaged family, his fractured life.

"It is time," Splinter said, finally braking the silence and gazing over to his youngest son. Michelangelo had once been so innocent, so full of life and wonder, but now he looked so hardened. Now, the laughter in his eyes had been replaced by something cold, something eerily final.

Feeling his heart sink, Splinter balanced on his walking stick and pulled himself slowly up from the couch. "Please collect your brother. I will meet you by the elevator."

Michelangelo nodded again and watched his master walk stiffly out of the room, dreading the order he had no choice but to carry out.

* * *

For once, Mikey was glad for his brother's troubling silence. When he popped his head into his room, all Raph did was peel himself slowly from the window and follow at his brother's heels like a dog that'd been kicked one too many times. Ever since his drastic personality change, Mikey had wanted Raph to talk, to open up to him, to do anything but stay silent, avoiding his gaze. But for now, he could care less. This time, he didn't ask any questions. This time he didn't stare. He just walked on, eyes forward, refusing to turn and face the miserable state of his brother following in his shadow.

And they walked that way, down to the elevator without ever exchanging a glance or a word. Even when they met Master Splinter, dressed in a stark black kimono, no one dared to speak. The ride to the cemetery was just as silent... silent as the grave, save for the hum of the motor and the sound of passing traffic.

They all knew that if they let down those concrete walls, cracked their hard exterior against the floodgates, no one would be able to stop. Then, there would be no turning back.

When they pulled into the cemetery gates, that sickening crunch of gravel under the tires, Mike felt a sinking pang of grief strike like lighting hit through every vein. He felt so empty, like he had been gutted, ripped free of any substance that he once held. He'd been torn, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but sadness. He looked desperately to his sensei. Seeing the grief painted across his face, weighing down every limb like a great heavy burden, Mikey didn't know how much longer he could hold himself back. The waves of grief, of loss, of longing for his brother washed over him like a raging sea, delivering blow after crushing blow. It wouldn't stop. It would never, ever stop.

Then he looked at Raph, still silent, still staring at the gravel in the parking lot. Grief didn't mar his face, no, he appeared to be chiseled from solid rock. He was cold, dense, and unmoving, never bending or cracking against the pressure. Tears wouldn't glaze over his eyes. Nothing could bring down that wall. He felt like a bastard, no heart, just cold. But pain was no stranger. Pain was the very reason he felt nothing at all.

Mikey glared at his brother with tear-brimmed eyes, his brow knot in mock anger coursing through his veins. "What the hell is wrong with you!" he screamed, biting back a sob. His hands were in weak fists at his sides.

Raph stopped, never lifting his eyes from the stones at his feet.

"Why don't you cry, yell, do something! Do you even care that he's dead? He- he's dead, Raph! He's fucking dead!"

Splinter rested his paws softly on his youngest son's quaking shoulders. He knew that the ferocity of his words did not reflect the feeling in his heart. Anger was only a mask for his grief. He pressed his muzzle up to his ear and whispered what he knew was truth. "He is mourning, Michelangelo. Let him be."

Mikey fell silent, his lips still moving without uttering a sound. He shifted his eyes away, studying the crowd gathered at a corner of the cemetery by the sea. The grey waters he had visited so many times to stare at his own bent reflection and see how much his world had changed.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, a tear finally spilling over the edge, rolling slowly down his cheek.

The old rat nodded slowly and gathered his crying son into his arms, resting his chin on his quaking shoulders. He closed his eyes to the bright sun that poured down from the heavens. "I know it is difficult, my sons, but today, we must be there for your brother. We must stay strong, just for today."

Michelangelo pulled from his father's embrace, wiping away his tears with a sniff. Then, he solemnly nodded.

Splinter reached out, pressing a loving hand on either of his son's shells and guided them gently on down the gravel path to where the crowd was waiting, two broken warriors and their ancient grief-worn father. And each of them knew it was finally time to say goodbye.

* * *

Winding through the gawking crowd, the hum of quiet conversation pierced the air. The flash of cameras resounded, surrounding them with blinding white light. But even the paparazzi kept their distance and remained silent as the three marched in, unblinking and unfaltering to the front of the rows of chairs. There they sat, the two brothers and their sensei between them, just feet from the body of their brother, their leader, slain in cold blood by his own beloved sword.

His body looked like he was meditating, just as he had every morning since he was ten years old. Seeing him lie there, his expression tranquil as if locked into some peaceful slumber, was oddly familiar. Seeing it on any other person would have been out of place. But for Leo, it was exactly the way he was meant to be.

They had placed his body on an immense block of dry ice, surrounding him in thin whips of steam. His hands were placed delicately at his chest upon the hilts of his crossed katana. The steal glinted in the blue sky sun, alive. Even in death, those swords were still a part of him, still a piece of his soul. For the rest of eternity, they would never be apart.

After staring at his brother's body long enough, Mikey had to look away. The air was thick with incense, making his eyes water as he surveyed the rows of guests seating themselves behind him. Sitting far in the back he spotted Bishop, dressed the same as he always was with his black suit and glasses, as if he spent his entire life dressed for a funeral. Next to him was Mortu concealed within his robot body, also wearing black glasses, the corners of his robotic mouth drawn down into an appropriate frown. Not to far away sat Starlee, looking a little lost and embarrassed among the countless faces they both did not recognize. Then he saw Cody walking among them, making his way towards her and throwing his arms around her. He cradled her as she sobbed into the nape of his neck. Finally his eyes blurred over with tears and Mikey turned away. He knew that something this big wouldn't be what Leo would have wanted. A family gathering would have been enough for him, but all the countless faces and the crowd of television cameras that lingered far behind gave him a sense of comfort. Among the sea of people, he felt like he could hide.

When the ceremony started, the crowd fell quiet and listened to the priest…or whoever was talking…make his speech. Luckily, Cody hadn't chosen to give him a Christian funeral. It would have killed Master Splinter if they had a Christian Priest stand up there and talk about the intensely Buddhist Leonardo.

But whatever the priest was, whatever he said or did, Mikey just couldn't draw his attention away from the grief-filled expressions of his family. Splinter, staring solemnly ahead, nodding sadly when the priest said something he felt was poignant, his eyes brimming with tears. And then there was Raph, expressionless, cold-hearted Raph. He never even dared to look up and see Leo lying there, not a single tear in his eyes while Mikey shamelessly felt his rolling down his cheeks.

_He's cold…so heartless. _He clenched his shaking fists in his lap and bit hard into his bottom lip. _I take back everything I said to him _he vowed. _I wish I never defended him. He really is a monster. _Even if Raphael had been full of senseless rage, even if he'd caused a scene, even if he'd tried to choke him again, it would have been better than this. Now, he was just a hard, emotionless lump.

But the pain Michelangelo wished upon his brother was no stranger to Raphael. It was entwined with his heart, devouring his mind for all those weeks he'd been alone, haunted by his brother's ghost in that dark hospital room, creeping in and out of the shadows. It bore down on him like a vicious creature, thirsty for his blood and his sanity, crying out to him in waking and in sleep. It had eaten a hole inside of him, leeched his life away, made him lose control. It had possessed him, turning him into an animal, a creature that fed off of rage. But then the sedatives had lulled him to sleep, keeping his limbs heavy and his mind slow, numbing him, diminishing his world to fog and shadows among the haze, a world of smoke and mirrors.

The last time, he'd rebelled. He'd cried out into the darkness one more time, just once, and it had almost cost his brother's life.

But the pills kept him numb now. Though the pain still lingered, whispering to him from his soul's darkest caverns. His world, his spirit, it all had been broken, leaving him with only the fragments of memory to cling to. He missed the times when he and his brother used to have silly arguments about who was going to use the last of the milk, or why he never took meditation seriously. But now, those days were gone, and there his brother lay there silent and unmoving on the alter before him, as cold and dead as he felt inside.

His father always did love to tell them how alike they really were. But Raph felt it was a little too late to finally believe it.

When the priest stopped talking, Master Splinter lifted himself up off his chair and hobbled onto the alter. The priest lent out a hand and guided him to the podium. He was barely tall enough to see over the wooden structure, but his presence could have filled the entire world.

"Thank you all, my dearest friends and kind guests, for being here with us today. My son, Leonardo, would surly have appreciated all the kindness in your hearts. Many of you have been part of our lives for many years, and for many years, our fates have been entwined. But now, our fates have shifted to a direction no father would ever want to see his son face alone. For an old rat such as myself, it brings great pain to my heart to see a son meet this fate so young." He breathed deeply and continued, trying to forbid the tears that promised to fall.

"But Leonardo was not a child. He had never been young in soul. Leading his brothers as any good brother would made him wise beyond his years. At a young age, he had been made to shoulder the heaviest of burdens. He protected his brothers fiercely, he practiced religiously, and every day of his passing life, he never failed to make me proud to be his father. The lives we have led have been difficult. We have lived many years, surrounded by fear and by war. But now, in this future world, Leonardo has paid not only his family, but the world, a great sacrifice. Because of Leonardo's sacrifice, we all are privledged live on in peace. War no longer surrounds us. Fear no longer grips us. Leonardo has given his life for us to live our own, for that is the sacrifice he was willing to make. His life was taken in exchange for the lives of millions."

He looked to the faces of his sons, one glued to his every word, unashamed of the tears that streamed down his face. The other, cold and distant, but still, he sensed his pain.

"It is a sacrifice that is hard to accept as a father, the life of your son for the lives of countless strangers. But then, I think, and my heart swells with pride. It was not strangers that this sacrifice was given. It was not for nothing that his life has been lost. It is for the innocent, the weak, the peaceful people of this galaxy. It is for our friends, our neighbors, our families. And when I think of all these things, I know that Leonardo knew these things well. For that is how his life was lived, at the edge of his katana, but for a reason. He was a defender of the weak, leader for the helpless, teacher, brother, friend, and son."

"The fates may have brought him to this path, but only he has chosen to take it. Only he has chosen this destiny. His destiny has, and always will, lie with the people he has vowed to protect. And now, in death, his vow will never shatter. It will never break or fall, because those who live with honor, die with honor."

The old rat looked up into the flawless blue sky and whispered "May we never forget, my son, may we never forget."

* * *

After the funeral was finished and the sea of chairs sat empty in the field like paper notes, the two brothers and their master were left alone with their fallen son, their beloved brother. The ice around his body was gone now, only scraps lingered and vanished into the air of the afternoon sun.

And in the lonely silence, the old rat master cradled the head of his dead son, stroking it tenderly as if lulling him to sleep. Tears spilled from the corner of his eyes, kissing the cold flesh of his son's sweet face. And he cried, shamelessly, greedily, gasping, rattling cries.

Michelangelo turned away, walking back to the edge of the familiar sea, the dark grass that crowned the seaside caressing his bare feet. In the shade of the willow tree, he sat along cool waters and gave into the grief that tore away his insides. He buried his face in his hands and felt hot tears leaking through his fingers.

And for the first time in a long time, Raphael lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at his Master's face, his brother's ashen skin and solemn expression, the gash that lingered just beneath his collarbone. He reached out and touched it, tracing his fingers along the gaping cut. Cold, so lifeless, he remembered the weeping blood, his brother's last words.

_Promise._

After a time, they surrendered his body to the two strong men waiting in the wings, lifting him gingerly on his wooden stretcher, slowly, so the swords would not be disturbed. They placed him on the funeral pyer and soaked the chilled skin in oil. The priest, bearing a bowl of water, wet his lips, as was tradition, and set the tower ablaze. And the three, submersed in their own sorrows, surrendered their son, their brother, their leader to the licking flames. They ate away his body until only charred swords remained.

The fire burned for three long days.


	16. Chapter 16: Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 16: Of Monsters and Men

Watching the twisting flames engulf his brother's body, he couldn't take his eyes away. He watched it burn, entranced, charring flesh and blackening steel. He watched the putrid smoke rise up over the gray waters and spread out across the sea winds. He stood and watched his body, his brother's broken body turned to ash until only a heap remained, the scent still lingering in the air. And when there was nothing left, they gathered it up along with the swords and laid him down to rest in the good green earth beneath a stone. In thick, black letters it spoke the name- Leonardo.

And watching his family, his little brother sobbing, wrapped in the arms of his father, consumed by their grief. There was a knot in his throat he just couldn't swallow down, a fire in his chest he just couldn't quench. But he didn't want to cry. He didn't deserve to cry a goddamn tear for what he'd done. He'd let him die. He'd let him...

_I don't want to feel _he thought with a shudder. He turned away from the site and studied his shadow painted across the gravel path. But it all came back, the grief, the madness, the rage he just couldn't get a handle on. He closed his eyes and tried to restrain it, that fire kissing his bones and filling his veins like a funeral pyre, making his heart rocket beneath his plastron, boiled hot in unshed tears. This monster clawing beneath his skin wouldn't listen to reason, he turned back down the gravel path and left it all behind. His brother. His father. The fire. Everything, just left behind.

"Where is he going?" Michelangelo sobbed bitterly. He pushed free of his father's arms and stood from where he knelt on the grass beneath the willow. He started toward his brother before Master Splinter's weathered paw upon his shoulder made him freeze.

"Michelangelo..."

He half turned to his master, reluctant to take his eyes off of Raphael's retreating shell.

"Let him go."

Michelangelo looked at his sensei's face with tear-filled eyes. "You can't just let him leave when he's- he's like…this."

Already half way down the path, Raphael turned to his brother. He felt helpless, wounded, so tired, but he also could feel the medication wearing off, and he feared what might happen if it did. "I'm going home" he muttered.

"Yes, my son," Master Splinter said, looking more stoic now. "Go home, rest. We will return after our visit with Donatello."

Then, without a word, Raphael turned back to the winding graveyard path, disappearing over the horizon to meet the bustling city that awaited him beyond the cemetery gates. Every step brought him closer, every footfall took him further away.

* * *

The walk home had been utterly exhausting, and by the time Raphael had reached the penthouse elevator, all he wanted to do was collapse.

_It's all your fault. You're the reason he's dead. What's wrong with you? _

Raph put his hand to his forehead, trying to stop the endless flow of poisonous thoughts that were creeping across his mind.

_You're a monster. A monster. You don't even care that he's dead._

"That's not true!" he said out loud. He didn't care if it made him look crazy. _Maybe I am crazy..._

Then, he paused, slowly easing his hand back down as the numbness set in again. Quietly, solemnly, he made his way upstairs, his hand sliding across the smooth polished rail. The cool sensation ebbed through his fingertips, reminding him that he could feel, that the world wasn't only smoke and mirrors, that _this_ was reality, cold, harsh, penetrating reality.

He could hear Cody tinkering in the lab below him, and he hoped the kid wouldn't try to go near him. Not now. Not ever. If he did, Raphael knew he'd keep his vow to make the boy pay his dues. His mind was slipping away from him again, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. It thirsted for blood. It ached for misery, and once it started, it could never be stopped. It was bleeding, hollow, wounded, and starving.

He reached his room with a sigh of relief, tired as a refugee, and slowly turned the door handle to let himself in. It was silent in the dim light. The darkness was his refuge. The window lay open to the afternoon breeze and the blue glow of twilight poured in.

He looked to the bottles of pills sitting on his nightstand, speaking his name, promising his rescue. The sedatives, the large yellow ones, to quiet him, to make him sleep. The anti-psychotics, the small blue ones, to quell his anger and quiet his brain. He opened the caps and poured them into his palm: two yellow, one blue.

_You're nothing. You've failed. You don't even give a shit about his promise... you're goddamn promise. He was dying, and you promised you'd take care of them! What kind of a monster are you? Heartless…cold… You could never be their leader. You never even tried._

Hand shaking from the screaming in his head, he could feel the fear seeping out of him, tearing through him, leaving nothing undamaged. He put the pills to his mouth and swallowed them down. But the fear… it made him want to scream. He was a monster, a beast, and at that moment there was nothing he could ever fear more than the anger that dwelled inside himself.

Two yellow, one blue.

_Please, make it stop._

But there was much more to fear this time, for soon the demon would be fed. Cody was making his way up the stairs, hand on the very same banister his executioner had once touched.

* * *

Donatello looked through half-opened eyes to the blurry shapes walking into the room. The light burned like hellfire in his retinas, making him wince and press them shut again. "S-sensei..."

Joy was in the room, mopping his face with a damp rag. She placed the rag back into the bowl as she stood, meeting eyes with Master Splinter. "He's been calling for you all day," she said solemnly. That usual sprightly cheer had drained from her voice. She adjusted the IV drips by his bedside before making for the door. "I'll leave you three alone. Call if you need anything."

Don forced his eyes open again, struggling to cry out before he felt a knotty paw brush against his cheek. He leaned into the cool touch and closed his eyes, panting. Everything was hazy and hot... so hot. His veins were filled with fire and his muscles burned under his skin. But the heat brought with it an odd sensation, a dull, ever-present tingle in his legs, crawling like a swarm of bees.

Mikey's hand was cool, wrapped gently around his own, careful to avoid the catheter embedded in the vein. He rocked his head toward the sensation, squinting to make out his brother's face. "I... c'n feel them..." He wanted to rejoice, he wanted to wipe the tears from his sensei's face, to tell his little brother not to worry for the thousandth time. But he knew he was sick. The weakness in his limbs, the pounding in his head told the tale. Sweat dripped down his face, but he found himself too weak to wipe it away. But Mikey was there, gentle hands, a cool cloth from the basin. His thank you came out only as a dull moan. Finally, he closed his eyes to sleep.

_Traveling through time and space, the curse of Draco and the Damyo's son, he landed in a nightmare world, the world he had feared would be his future._

_Michelangelo, so cold and distant, scarred by too much fighting, too much pain. Raph and Leo at each other's throats, and he, missing for far too long. The family had fallen apart, disintegrated by the test of time, but he had never had a chance to ask them why._

_The Shredder. He was there, and in the end he'd killed them all…but he was dead now. He should have been dead long ago, or this never would have happened._

_And then it struck him. The Shredder. Not dead, family hanging by a thread, the coldness of his eyes… what if..._

* * *

Raph found himself shuddering beneath the covers, waiting for sleep and sanity to finally claim him, but in the darkness he found neither. Instead, he heard his brother's voice, calling out to him from somewhere in the shadows. "Will you leave me alone!" he bellowed, rocking back and fourth, drawing the covers closer around his shoulders. "I know I failed you Leo, but I can't do it, ok. I just can't!"

_Promise._

"I can't! I told you. I can't!"

_Promise._

"Leo! Get outta my head!" He roared, pressing his eyes closed. The meds would start working soon. _Please, for tha love a god, start working now! _He felt like soon, his blood would boil and that would be the end. He could hear it already pounding in his ears, like the echoes of approaching footsteps.

And then, the door creaked and his heart stopped.

"Raph? I saw you come in here. There's no way you're asleep already."

The boy's voice was young, too innocent, but somehow spoken from the devil's wicked forked tongue.

"I ain't sleepin'" he growled, pulse pounding in his ears. _Ok. Easy Raph. He's just a kid._

_His fault,_ the voices hissed, _blood for blood._

And then he began to believe it, that the demon's lust for revenge became his own as well, its angry death-growl becoming his own battle cry. His muscles tensed and his heart raced, ready for the kill.

"Look, I'm really sorry for everything that happened. I should have never brought you here. And I have to admit, getting you here wasn't exactly an accident." Cody looked down to the floor, arms crossed nervously over his chest. "I've been wanting to tell you guys for a long time. I can fix the portal, because I built it. It isn't just a window, it was supposed to be a door. Don didn't know that. I let all of you believe it was all was an accident. But please, hear me out..." he begged, unaware that the battle for his life was raging just feet away. "I grew up my entire life all alone. I never had any friends or family before you guys came. Grandma April always used to tell me stories about you guys, and I know my father knew you too. But I never got the chance. I grew up with only your stories, and when Grandma died, I had no one else but your stories for company. I'm sorry for everything that happened, but when I brought you here, I never knew it would turn out this way."

"You mean… you couldda sent us back all along?" Raph growled, starting to get out of bed, muscles tensing for the fight, rippling under the skin, crying out for blood.

_No Raph, __You don't want this. _

But he did. He really, really did. That voice was small compared to the screaming in his head. Raph straightened himself and glared at the boy with his fist clenched, aching to meet flesh. Cody had his back to the wall, eyes wide, quaking in fear. "Raph? What are you doing?" he asked, his voice cracking as his eyes grew ever wider when he saw the primal rage, the raw hunger of a predator lingering behind the turtle's eyes.

He took a step closer to the boy and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close, just inches away, hot breath spilling onto his face. He could feel him trembling in his grasp, but his fear only fueled the rage, deepened his soul's growing hunger. "You got any idea what you've done?" he spat in the young boy's face. He stared into the blue of his fear-filled eyes and glared hot poison, deep and penetrating, straight into his soul.

He didn't say a word. He didn't fight his grip. There they stayed, locked eye-to-eye, one trembling in terror, the other fuming with rage.

"Who the fuck do you think you are!" he screamed, slamming the boy hard against the wall. His back crashed into the dry wall, stealing the air from his lungs as he crumbled onto the floor.

But before he could recover, Raph pounced on him again and punched him hard in the face, making his nose bleed. He put his hand out to block the next punch, but instead of striking his next blow, the turtle grabbed it and twisted, feeling the snap of bone.

A searing pain shot through the boy's arm. He cried out in agony, throwing his hands up in front of his face. But the turtle was gone, leaving nothing but pure, unquenchable rage. Hearing the cries only made the blows fall harder, and in the first time in his life, Cody didn't feel invincible. He knew that death just may come to claim him at the hand of a person he had once thought of as a friend.

* * *

Don must not have been sleeping long, because Mikey was still sitting next to him when he burst awake. He reached out and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him closer. "T-the Damyo's son…" he stuttered, feeling the encroaching panic of his brilliant, fever-plagued realization.

But Mikey had taken hold of his wrists and was trying to pry himself free, finding that his brother was suddenly a whole lot stronger than he looked. "Donny, you're fever's really high. Just lie down and rest, ok?"

Donny tried to shake his head. "No... 's coming true."

"What are you talking about? What's coming true?"

"The future."

Mikey's eyes grew wide as he looked at his feverish brother, who in his haze, had still managed to make some sense. He knew immediately what he implied. "You shouldn't talk about that now Donny, not until you're better."

Don shook his head again. "No," he murmured, "now."

"Donny, please, just go back to sleep. Even if it was coming true, Raph's the one who lost an arm, and you're still here."

"You've changed," he whispered, releasing his brother who started to slowly back away. Even Leo's funeral hadn't managed to make him feel this torn up inside.

"Donny, I…"

"If we took on the Shredder…instead of Leo and Raph…"

Mikey shook his head, refusing to believe it. "No Donny. That's not how it happened. If we took on the Shredder instead of them…" He stopped himself and froze, looking at his brother staring into his eyes with the same mixture of fear and panic. He could barely hold himself against the wave of putrid realization that hit him like a wall. He stumbled backwards and found himself pinned against the wall. "Oh god."

"…the Shredder wouldn't be dead" whispered Donny. "Raph wouldn't have killed him and we couldn't have without a blade."

Donny closed his eyes to try to stop the room from spinning. He groaned from the pounding headache clawing at his skull, the chills that snaked through his body. He could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"Donny, see, you need to rest. We'll talk about this later, ok?"

He sounded out of breath, but Donny didn't answer. The notion of what could have been had seemingly sapped away every ounce of strength he still possessed. He felt like he was being crushed beneath the weight of the world.

* * *

For what seemed like an eternity, a passing lifetime, Cody imagined himself somewhere else, somewhere floating above his body as the pain flashed through him, blow after crushing blow. He had once thought himself so strong, so indestructible. But now, lying helpless on the floor, unable to fight back, he felt like he was about to break.

"You killed my brother!" Raphael roared fiercely. "It's all 'cause of you, you selfish little bastard!"

_Monster, monster, _a voice called out from within._ What are you doing? You're going to kill him. Do you see his blood on your hands? Don't you know that you're proving nothing?_

The voice screaming inside his head was different now, no longer the blood-filled howls of the demon. It was all too familiar, all too painful to hear. The sound made Raphael freeze, sending a haunting chill down his spine. And among the groans and little cries of the boy that lay broken and bleeding by his hand, he could hear the voice of his brother telling him to stop.

He got up from the boy's broken body and walked to the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. Flinching at the blood that graced his knuckles, the hurried sound footsteps fleeing from the room, closing the door quickly behind him. He closed his eyes and breathed, a halo of mist touching the glass. _Now I really am a monster_, he thought, letting the guilt soak through his pores like dirty, ill-gotten blood. _No matter what I do, I always fail._

He stood there against the window for a while until the numbness gripped him once again. He could feel the hollowness creeping in, that hazy half-consciousness of the sedatives. But still, the pain lingered. Still, the numbness did not erase the guilt, the failure, the hurt.

And suddenly, Raph found that there was nowhere else to run. Pinned up against the cold glass window, his world was crashing down on him. Slowly, he turned towards the door. Slowly, he pushed it open. Quietly, ever so silently, he crept into his master's room. And it too was hollow, void of anything familiar. A hole, swallowing him alive. That is, until he saw them and he knew what he had to do.

The cold steel sang to him from the dresser where they sat, the sai, so sharp and welcoming. And there he touched them, so familiar in this unfamiliar world, and took it up, only one, leaving its brother in its place. He only needed one.

He cradled it in his hands like a sleeping child, so tender and sweet, the promise that it whispered to his tattered soul. This was a promise he could keep.

He brought it to his room, the window that had called him, to where he saw his reflection peering back, the night clutching hold of the day. He lifted up his weapon, shining like a silver star among the field of many. Closing his eyes, and tipping back his head, he pressed it to his throat and let free the pain.

He remembered the sensation well, his life's blood running hot down his plastron, a sacrifice to what might have been, an offering to the dead. He welcomed in the darkness, beckoned in the cold. He knelt down onto the hard ground, his life slipping from his grasp in that warm, red pool of blood. And this time, he did not fight it. This time, he surrendered himself to the ever rushing tides and let the world slowly fade away.


	17. Chapter 17: When I Go Down

**Ha ha ha. I love all of your reactions... yeah the story's really dark and sad huh? Well, that's just how I like them! Maybe this chapter will leave you on a slightly happier note... or not...  
**

* * *

Chapter 17: When I Go Down

Coming from the hospital, Mikey felt guilty leaving Don, even if he was only sleeping now. He worried about him, now more then ever, because in his fever dreams, he was plagued with the haunting memories of the day he had been sent across time and space, landing him in a living nightmare. Don had told him much about where Draco and the Damyo's son had sent him, but he had never made the connection until now. And now, he found it was absurdly obvious how close the world had come to that terrible fate.

He tried to play it off, to stamp it out of his mind, but time after time it came back to haunt him. As much as he would like to deny it, what Donny had said did make sense. If the tides had turned, if Leo had given the orders for him to take on the Shredder instead of Raphael, it would have been his limb, and in the end, it would have cost the lives of his entire family. If it had been different, Leo wouldn't have died, but neither would the Shredder. And if he did survive, somehow, he would have found his way back to the past to bring earth to its knees.

All these unpleasant thoughts made him shudder, clouding his mind the whole way home. He hoped they weren't plaguing Donny in the same tortuous way. His poor brother shouldn't have to witness all these nightmares on top of everything else. He was so sick, so weak. The doctors said he would pull through, but it made his heart ache to see him that way.

But when the elevator doors finally opened into the penthouse, all his thoughts were extinguished. There was a bad feeling in the air, and it shook him to the very core.

"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing through the emptiness. But behind him, Master Splinter put a paw on his shoulder, signaling for silence. Sniffing the air, his ears flattened to his head and he shuddered.

"Something terrible has happened" he said, fear laced in his voice.

And then he saw movement in the kitchen, a shadow cast upon the floor. Mikey scuttled across the room like a shadow himself and scanned the darkened room.

"M-Michelangelo..." a weak voice whimpered.

Mikey turned to see a huddled form crouching from beneath the table. He flicked on the lights and saw Cody, or who he thought might be Cody, for his eye was badly swollen and his face was smeared with blood. He cradled his limp, swollen arm and hot tears stung his eyes.

"No! Don't turn on the lights!" he whispered, his eyes wide in terror. "He'll see it. Please, protect me. I think he wants to kill me."

Mikey could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around the room again and asked "Who did this to you?"

"Raph" he said in a quaking voice, his eyes darting from place to place, awaiting the return of his attacker.

"Raph did this?" he growled, eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"I-I just tried to apologize." The tears brimmed in his eyes and started pouring down his cheeks, mingling with the blood.

"Ok, never mind. Just go lie down on the couch and I'll get you cleaned up." His eyes shifted to the boy's battered arm, which was slowly turning a sickly shade of purple. "Maybe we should have a doctor look at that arm." He coaxed the boy out from under the table and led him to the couch. Starting to tend to the boy's wounds, he suddenly felt a sick feeling settling in. _Where is Master Splinter, and where is Raph?_

Then he heard a sound that made every ounce of his being buzz with electric terror. From up in Raph's room, Michelangelo could hear his sensei's anguished cry.

* * *

_Darkness. Nothing but darkness and cold. Finally, the numbness took hold. He closed his eyes, or what he thought was his eyes, for in the darkness of this place, it was hard to tell the difference._

_He let his body drift in an ebbing sea of tides, just flowing with the endless currents, leaving the pain behind._

_But then, he saw a light, dim at first, then piercing through the black. It grew and expanded before his eyes, painting a picture like a living canvas, opening to a world that was both strange and familiar, frightening yet so peaceful._

_He let the tides carry him closer, feeling the warmth of the midday sun melting the pain away. The slit in his neck didn't hurt anymore, the blood was gone from his hand. And there, a world materialized, a world that was not quite his._

"_Where am I?" he thought, but in this place, there seemed to be no boundary between thinking and saying. He looked around at the peaceful landscape, the wide stretching fields, the shade of oak trees. Everything there was quiet, placid, beautiful._

_He wandered through the field under the blue sky sun, letting the breeze caress his skin, until he found himself truly alone. Sitting down on a nearby rock, he thought, or said to himself "Is this it?"_

_He nearly jumped out of his shell when he felt a hand tap him lightly on his shoulder. He went to draw his sai, but found it was gone. Feeling his heart race inside his chest, he turned, slowly and defenseless, to the shadow that loomed from above._

_Against the bright, perfect sun, the shape was hard to make out at first. It was bright yet shaded all at once. He held his hand high up against his eyes to shield them from the sensation, and waited for the figure to come into focus._

"_Raphael" it called in a familiar voice that made him leap from the rock in ecstatic joy. He flung his arm around his brother, trying to fight back the tears that stung his eyes._

"_Leo? Is that really you?"_

_When he felt him nod, they held each other even tighter, as if their lives depended on them staying together, entwined forever._

_Once their warm embrace was over, the two brothers gazed into each other's eyes and Raph could barely believe the life he saw behind his brother's gaze. The last time he had seen his eyes, the light was fading out of them, leaving them hollow and lifeless in his arms._

"_It's me, Raph" he said smiling, still clutching his brother's arm, afraid to ever let go._

_And then it struck him. Raph backed away and sat on the sun-soaked rock behind him. "So this is it, isn't it" he sighed, taking in the scenery._

_But instead, Leo shook his head._

"_What do you mean no? I'm dead, ain't I?"_

"_No. You're not dead" Leo said solemnly._

_Raph was so confused he felt like he was going to explode. "But you're dead, right?"_

"_Yeah" he said, smiling thoughtfully "I am."_

"_Ok, so if you're dead and I'm not dead, what is this place?"_

"_I don't know" Leo shrugged._

"_How can ya not know?" demanded Raph._

"_I just don't."_

"_And you're ok with that?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Oh… of course ya are... whatever" he huffed, turning to examine the shade of a nearby tree. Its twisted roots plunged into a nearby running brook, bursting in all directions from the riverbed. The sound of the running water reminded him of Casey's farm. The brothers fell silent for a time as Raph tried to take it all in._

"_I wanted to talk to you" said Leo in his usual big brother manner._

"_Of course you do. I shoulda known." But Leo's look of concern made him think twice before brushing him off. _

"_I never thought I'd see you again" he grumbled "and now all you want to do is lecture me."_

"_But you did see me, didn't you?"_

"_What do ya mean?" asked Raph, pretending not to remember._

"_You asked me to help you."_

"_Yeah, I did. But you never came" he growled bitterly, but Leo just shook his head._

"_No, Raph. I was there for you all along. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen to me." He paused and looked at his brother with sad eyes. "I saw what you did."_

_Leo walked over to the rock and sat beside his brother, where Raph noticed the katana strapped to his back._

"_How come you get weapons and I don't?" he whined, trying to change the subject._

"_Because here, everything is how I want it to be" Leo sighed._

"_Then you didn't want me to have my sai?"_

_Leo shrugged and smiled. "It makes things less complicated."_

_Raph snorted at the notion. "Huh. Figures."_

_Then another long silence broke in, leaving the two brothers to their own thoughts, basking in the midday sun in the middle of the quiet field. _

_Leo looked up to his brother and examined the scar at his throat. Quickly, he looked down before he could be caught staring and studied his hands folded in his lap._

"_Why did you do this, Raph?" he asked, shattering the tension of the silence. But Raph didn't answer. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to them?"_

_Raph's eyes narrowed. He really didn't want a lecture._

_But Leo ignored the forewarning. "It isn't your time, Raphael. This is my destiny, not yours. You need to be there for them, because I can't."_

Raph stared up venomously into his brother's eyes. "_Just shut up Leo" he growled "don't you know I can't do nothin' right? I'd be hurtin' them no matter what I do."_

"_You promised me, Raph."_

_Raph could feel the anger coming back to him again, the horrifying sensation that he had thought he left behind._

"_Fuck your promise, Leo!" he screamed, bolting up from the rock to face his brother head on. "Do you think I forgot? Damn it Leo! I can't! I told you I can't!"_

_Instead of retaliating, Leonardo gazed up at his brother solemnly. He could see him trembling, he could see the tortured look in his eyes. He had never left his brother's side through it all, and even if he wasn't there physically, he had witnessed his world falling apart. He didn't speak. He didn't retaliate. He only sat and waited for the wall to come crashing down, the anger to subside, because under the hardened facade, he knew that his brother was hurting. He was wounded, scarred, and he had finally broken down. _

_When Raph saw his brother sitting there, stoic as a stone, he saw in his brother's eyes a look that could have brought him to his knees. And he could feel it all ebb away, tearing open the old, festering wounds, leaving him weak and vulnerable. He was scared, so scared, of himself._

_Leo stood and put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, his eyes telling him all he needed to know._

_Unable to look away, Raph took a shuttering breath and felt hot tears sting his eyes. He blinked hard once and let one escape, rolling down his cheek._

"_I-I can't do it, Leo" he said, voice wavering with the pain that burdened his heart "Just…look at me."_

_And Leo did look at his brother, this time unashamed of staring, unafraid of what he saw, because he knew that deep beneath it all, he was still his brother. He was still a leader. He studied his arm, which ended abruptly just above where the elbow should have been, ending all too soon, wrapped in a thick, white bandage. His eyes gazed over the qrotesque scar that grazed his throat, the thin, self-inflicted wound. And finally, he met his brother's eyes._

_His brother was crying as he watched him study the wounds, the scars that would never fade. But it was not the physical scars alone that pained him so greatly. His heart was shattered, his mind had slipped away, and he had tried to kill himself. But, even in this place, you can't escape yourself._

"_Oh, Raph, I'm so sorry" he said, gathering his shattered brother into another close embrace. He was shaking so badly it made his heart cry out for mercy. He had never seen him so weak, so helpless, so torn. He could feel his pain, his fear, his frustration, and it was all to much to bear._

"_Raph… I know what you've gone through, but I still believe in you. Don't ever lose faith in yourself, because you're more than this. You're strong, brother, I know you are."_

_But Raphael shook his head and spoke against the tears. "I'm not strong no more, Leo." A deep sob took hold and shook him. "Look what I've done." He touched the scar on his throat and closed his eyes._

"_I-I just wanted it to end. I didn't want to feel like that no more. I couldn't control it. I was so… scared."_

"_Raphael…" Leo said, trying to comfort him. " I know it scares you. I know what happened. But all of this is in your head. Don't blame yourself, because you did the best you could."_

"_The best I could!" he roared. "You died, Leo! Mikey hates me, and everyone thinks I'm some kinda monster. I don't even know what's happenin' to Donny…"_

"_They need you Raph."_

_Raphael froze in mid sentence. "How could they need me when I'm like this?"_

_Leo studied the pain in his brother's face and wished he could take it all away. _

"_I chose you for a reason, Raph. Donny can't do it, Mikey can't either, and they could never do anything without you. They need someone to look out for them. Without that, Donny can never be free to dream, and Mikey could never be, well, Mikey. You've seen it, I know. So don't let this family fall apart, Raphael. Only you can pick up the pieces. Only you can keep them together."_

_The truth hit him like a hot dagger through his heart. Leo was right. They couldn't do it alone._

"_W-what have I done!" he screamed into the resounding air, panic electrifying his body. He clutched onto his brother and held him tightly, afraid to ever let go. "Leo, I gotta go back! I gotta help them! God damn it, I am so damn selfish!"_

_Leo rested his hands on his brother's shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. "You need to promise me that you'll take care of them."_

"_I promise Leo!" And this time, he meant it. This time he knew his heart was ready for the burden. "I promise!"_

_All around him, the world was fading again, piece by fragile piece until there was nothing left but he and Leo, clutching each other in the consuming darkness, Raphael making his final promise._

"_You'll never be alone, Raph. I know you can do it. I'll always be there for you."_

"_Leo… don't go!" Raph screamed into the hollowing blackness. He could feel his brother's spirit slowly drifting away, fading back into the shadows, becoming entwined with the darkness._

_But Leo didn't fight it. He smiled slightly as it took him, carrying him away, back to where he belonged. He saw the anguish on his brother's face, desperately trying to hold on. He brushed away his grasp and spoke through the echoing dark. "I'll be waiting" he whispered "I'll always be waiting here for you."_


	18. Chapter 18: Pieces of Me

Chapter 18: Pieces of Me

Raph was talking in his sleep again, soft mutters piercing through the quiet air. Cody and Master Splinter had gone to bed long ago, leaving Mikey to himself, all alone under the cold blue glow of the television.

He closed his eyes and listened, trying to hold back the anger, the bitter thoughts that were sure to overwhelm him.

In the old days, he would have cared. He wouldn't have held such a grudge. But in all his loneliness, all his tears, things were harder to forget. Donny was right. He really had changed.

If things had been different, he would have ran to his brother's bedside, hoping with the unbreakable faith of a child that his brother would wake up from his impenetrable coma. But that child-like fantasy of his brother opening his eyes and being the same old Raphael he had always been had seemed to be extinguished long ago. Now he almost wished that he'd never wake up.

It had been months, two months since Raph had done that to himself, to all of them, and he refused to give him the luxury of worrying or of caring. He cursed his brother for everything he had done, and after they had taken him to the hospital and found that he was still alive, he felt no sympathy for him. It was his own damn fault.

_Why would he try to leave us?_ He thought, wallowing in his own bitterness as he sat alone on the sofa in the dark, the tv's blue glow his only companion.

Michelangelo knew quite well the reason why Raph had done this to himself. He had seen it long before, ever since that first day when he opened his eyes and laughed, but not in the way Raphael laughed. It had been hollow, confused, lost even. And right then and there, Mikey saw it in his eyes. Raph had scars even time couldn't heal.

He had been so angry, so depressed, so full of remorse that he had driven himself crazy, _literally _crazy. Losing a limb and a brother was too much, especially for Raph who had always been so sensitive, but always refused talk about his problems. Instead he kept it bottled up, masked it with anger, drove everyone away. It was like he had finally just snapped under the pressure.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and just talked about it. If only he had let him help. But no, Raph didn't want his stupid help. He just wanted to be alone, all the time, and look out the fucking window. After a while, Mikey had given up on trying to reach out to him. He had learned to ignore him, even hate him a little. But now, all he felt was hate. He would have left him all alone to take care of both Don and Master Splinter by himself. He wasn't supposed to be the one that did things like worry. He wasn't supposed to be this bitter or this cruel. He was supposed to be the happy one, without a care in the world. His entire life, he had never felt the crushing weight of so much responsibility, the weight that seemed to want to squeeze the life right out of him. He was the youngest, the baby, and even if he was almost twenty, he still felt like he wasn't ready to be grow up just yet.

He was so tired of carrying it all.

He should have said something, to anyone, to everyone. He had seen it the day when he stopped Raph from jumping out the window. Maybe that was why he was so obsessed, he was trying to gather up the courage to finally go through with it. That night, two months before, he had almost left them. He had almost played it through. If Master Splinter hadn't found him, if he hadn't gathered his brother's bloodied body into his arms, ready to run all the way to the hospital if he had to, he would have died right then and there, by the tip of his own bloody sai.

But that was when he cared, two months ago. It had been two months since he remembered being at least a shred of who he used to be. To months ago when the rest of him had died. That was when he changed. That was when he had forgotten how to laugh. That was when he just stopped caring. Being cold and bitter was a much thicker armor now. That was all he had left to hold on to.

When the doctors said his brother would be fine and sent him back home, he was so tired of being worried. He was so tired of caring so much. Raph didn't care, so why should he? So in the end, there was nothing left for Mikey to do but hate him for everything he had done, and secretly hate himself for not doing all those things he should have done to stop him.

He remembered the night they had found him, drowning in a pool of his own blood, his life hanging by a thread. Master Splinter had fainted there on the floor, and Mikey hadn't known who to run to first. In the moonlight, the sai was caught by silver light and he smelled the copper scent of blood. He had reached down and touched his brother on the shoulder, cold and lifeless, thinking he was dead. But no matter what, Mikey was determined not to lose another brother. Then, he would have run to the ends of the earth to save him. Then, he would have done anything to keep his family together. But that was when he used to care. That was before he let the truth sink in: Raph didn't want to be saved.

Now he was so tired. Now he didn't care, he couldn't care. His heart ached for so long, bled for everything that had happened, and now it had become calloused like his battle-worn hands. It was a hideous armor, but it did protect him from everything but himself.

Ever since that night, it had been easier for him to hate Raph than to worry about him. It was easier to blame him then to blame himself.

Mikey stared blankly at the tv while he thought of all these things. He wasn't even paying attention to the screen. He used to love tv, the escape it gave him, the joy. But now he never even paid attention anymore. Now there was no escaping the thoughts inside locked inside his own head. But still, he always had it on, just to have some company.

Everything had changed so much, and it seemed like he was always left alone. Don was still supposed to be resting, and everyone else kept to themselves. But it was hard for him to sit there, by himself for endless hours at a time. Sometimes it was like the quiet was eating him alive. Growing up with three older brothers doesn't exactly prepare you to cope well with being alone. Now the silence only brought up scary thoughts and bitterness. It was like he could feel himself changing into someone he couldn't recognize. He wanted to talk to somebody, but no one would listen. He wanted to joke and goof around like he used to, but it was like he had forgotten how.

Ignoring the television screen, he turned the volume down low to hear his brother's unconscious murmurs echo through the dark. Sitting in the quiet, he could make out only one word: Promise.

A promise he refused to keep.

* * *

Donatello opened his eyes and listened. He could hear from down the hall that Raph was having that dream again.

He snuggled deeper into bed and tried to ignore it, just being glad to be in his own room.

They had sent him home just a week ago and he was so grateful to be out of the reach of the nauseating smell of antiseptic. He still wasn't feeling one hundred percent, but it was still so good to be home.

Just a month ago, his fever finally broke, and a concerned Dr. Touresh had ordered him to go home, banishing him to four more weeks of bed rest. He hated bed rest. But he was weak, and if he stayed in the hospital, they were afraid he would catch another sickness. His immune system really sucked. It always had, and it seemed like it always will. Especially now that he had sustained such terrible injuries, he had been picking up different things left and right. At home he would at least only be exposed to so much, especially with Master Splinter, Mikey, and Cody fawning over him at all hours of the day.

He was getting sick of being babied. He just wanted to be treated like an adult instead of like some kind of invalid.

Eying the clock, he saw it was late, but how long he had been sleeping was a mystery. Ever since the injuries, he had taken to sleeping for days at a time. He hated being so weak, so tired all the time because it constantly reminded him of all the things he could be getting done. He missed the days when he could just get up and do something, get out of bed, tinker in the lab. Even using the stairs would be a luxury. But Don knew stairs may be a feat he would never be able to accomplish on his own.

Luckily, Cody's penthouse had an elevator to every floor, but what struck him the most about his paralysis was that if what was left of his family ever made their way back home, he wouldn't be able to manage the sewer routes by himself. He was doomed to be treated like a baby forever.

But hope wasn't all lost. Sometimes, he could swear he felt his legs, though the sensation was more like a dull, throbbing pain than feeling. He had almost forgotten what it was like to feel.

In the darkness, Raphael whispered again, and the eerie sound gave him chills. His heart pounded in his ears when he got an idea. It was reckless, but necessary.

He eyed the wheelchair in the corner of his room, planning out his mission.

For the week he had been home, he had heard Raph talking endlessly in his sleep from the other room. But every time he had asked Mikey what was wrong, he would just brush him off, which frustrated him to no end.

_Doesn't Mikey know that leaving me in the dark like this is a bad idea? _he thought to himself. His body might have been broken, but his mind was still sharp as a tack and thirsting for knowledge. He knew that something was wrong. He could see it in his brother's eyes, in Master Splinter's eyes. Even Cody seemed shaken now. It puzzled him how at every mention of Raph, the boy trembled with fear. Somehow, Don sensed that the three of them had made a pact to keep him out of the loop, but that wasn't going to stop him for long.

_If they're not going to tell me what happened to him, I'll just have to find out for myself, _he thought to himself in stubborn determination. A devious little smile crept across his lips as he planned out his next move. Sure, he had vowed to never fight again, but that wasn't going to stop him from using whatever stealth tactics he knew. At least this way it would be getting put to good use.

He heaved himself up into the sitting position, which was always more difficult and painful than necessary. At that moment, he really wished that Dr. Touresh hadn't decided to cut back on his pain killers.

Ignoring the burning muscles in his torso, he dragged himself over to the edge of the bed and dangled his lifeless feet off the side. He took in a deep, indulgent breath, letting his plastron rise and fall. "Ok" he whispered to himself on the exhale "let's see exactly how wonderful this microchip is."

He slid himself off the side of the bed and attempted to stand. Balancing for a few seconds as he held onto the side of his nightstand. Then, he wobbled and crashed with a graceless thud, falling flat on his face.

He pressed his palms to the floor and raised himself up from his face plant, shaking himself out of the daze. "Well that was graceful" he laughed to himself with just a little frustration. So much for ninja stealth, but at least he had expected that.

For once, he was glad that he was alone in his room, because it would have been pretty embarrassing to have one of his brothers watch him crawl across the floor like some kind of urchin, without a shred of dignity.

After what seemed like decades, he heaved himself up into the chair and wheeled himself clumsily into Raphael's room.

* * *

"Raph?" he whispered into the pitch black room. He could hear his brother stirring under the covers, the sound of the sheets ruffling.

"Raph, are you awake?" But Don knew it was a silly question. What little Mikey had told him, he had sensed that Raph had been sleeping for a very long time. When no sound came from the room, he maneuvered his way through the door and wheeled over to his bedside, peering over to the shape that lay there.

He reached for the lamp and flicked it on.

"Leo…" he moaned into the air above him. Don could see his eyes moving from beneath his eyelids.

"No, it's me, Don" he said softly to his brother's sleeping form. He tossed and turned from under the covers until he had turned and faced Don. And his eyes widened when he saw the scar, still red and angry, gracing the flesh on his brother's delicate throat.

He put a hand to his mouth to stifle the gasp. All logic told him he did not get that mark in battle. He suddenly realized why they had been so reluctant to tell him.

"Oh Raph…" his voice trailed into barely a whisper, only to be interrupted by his brother's frantic cries.

"Don't go! Leo, don't leave me! Come back with me!"

His remaining fist desperately clutched the bed sheets, his breath coming in small, violent gasps. Donny's eyes grew wide as he watched his brother's sudden desperation. It chilled him to hear Raph call out Leo's name, the eeriness of it echoing through the silent penthouse.

Then, Donny felt his heart stop as his brother suddenly went limp and fell silent. His eyes moved to his plastron, praying to see it rise and fall. But when he saw the stillness take hold of his brother's body, hot panic boiled inside of him as he watched, helpless to what he beheld.

He was supposed to help him, do CPR, something. If he could only stand…

As he tried to raise himself from the wheelchair, the pain crashed in burning torrents down his sides and abdomen. He winced and gasped as it gripped hold of him.

And then Raph started breathing again. With a sigh of relief, Don eased himself back down and sat panting for a while in the quiet. He still had two hours before he could take another pain pill, and he was starting to think twice about his once seemingly good idea.

When the pain subsided, he looked again to his brother's face and looked, for the first time in a long time, into his brother's eyes.

* * *

_It was all coming back… Leo… you're… really gone…_

He could feel himself spinning back to reality.

_Leo's hand slipped from his grasp…I'll always be waiting…_

"No! Don't go!" he could hear himself saying from somewhere far away.

_The darkness was closing in…_

"Leo, don't leave me!"

_But he was already gone…swallowed up by the dark…_

The darkness began to fade, but this time, into something real, something tangible.

_I won't fail you this time, Leo…_

But everything was gone.

A dim light showed from behind his eyelids. He gasped for a breath he did not know he had held and slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the half-light until the blurriness subsided.

There, he saw a shape, a familiar face, the color purple… Don.

"Donny?" he could barely hear his own voice as it escaped from his lips.

Before either of them could speak, the door creaked open from the other side of the room. He could hear Mikey's voice, all the laughter had drained from it. He sounded… so tired.

"Donny, you're supposed to be in…" Mikey stopped in mid sentence when he saw Raphael's open eyes.

"Oh. You're awake" he said curtly.

Feeling stronger now, more solid, Raph lifted his head to reply. "Hey Mike. Yeah I'm awake."

Raph winced at his stiff muscles' protest as he stretched them from their disuse.

Then, without a word, Mikey turned to leave through the door.

"Mike… wait. Don't go."

Mikey turned and glared at his brother. "I don't want to talk to you" he hissed.

"Mikey, please… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

But Mikey only laughed dryly without a trace of humor. "What, Raph? What do you want me to do? Do you expect me to forgive you or something?"

Raph's eyes shifted away from his brother's stone cold gaze. "No… I guess not."

"I didn't think so" he said bitterly, again turning for the door.

"Wait! I'm not done. I really am sorry bro. I'm sorry I acted like sucha freak. I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry I hurt all those people. But things're different now. I promise I won't be like that anymore. I'm done with all a that."

But Mikey only crossed his arms over his plastron and glared. "You might not be done" he spat "but I am."

Before he turned to leave, he looked to Donny, still keeping his bitter tone. "Don, you need to get in bed. You're supposed to be resting."

Shocked at the new shift in the family dynamics, all Don could manage to say was a distant "Uh huh." He looked towards Raph, suffering in his desperation, and then to Mikey, bitter, laughless, and cold.

"Come on, I'll help you" he said dryly, taking hold of the back of his wheelchair.

This was enough to snap Don out of his daze. He reached over and swatted his brother's hands away, throwing Mikey a glare of his own. "No, Mikey, I'm a big turtle. I can take care of myself."

Usually, Mikey would protest, tell Donny he was stubborn and needed to do what the doctor had said. Ever since the injury, Mike had turned into his own personal security guard. Recently, Don had decided that his brother had somehow managed to become more irritating than Master Splinter and Leonardo put together.

But this time, he only drew his hands away and let them fall limp to his sides, shifting his gaze into a vicious glare shot in Raphael's direction.

"Just… get some rest ok?" he said over his shoulder on his way out the door.

Hearing the finality of it click behind him, Don looked accusingly over to Raph.

"He really hates me, don't he?" said Raph gruffly.

"Looks like it, yes."

"And you?"

Don shrugged. "They wouldn't tell me about it. I found out just now." He paused. "I guess I need some time to think about this."

Raph nodded slowly, sadly. "Yeah. Ok."

Donny wheeled his chair slowly to the door, but it was a quickly as he could manage. By now, Mikey's orders for him to rest were beginning to sound pretty good.

"Don?"

He stopped. "Yeah?"

"You Ok?"

"I'm fine" he said dryly over his shoulder as he made his way out the door.

His brother looked into his lap as he spoke. "The last time I heard about you, you were knockin' on death's door."

"Yeah…" Don trailed off, thinking first before he delivered his final dagger. "like you care."

Raph didn't respond, Don didn't look back. The two of them parted ways, knowing well about the scars that lingered, the wounds that bled and festered, the injuries that would take more than simple time to heal.


	19. Chapter 19: Scars

Chapter 19: Scars

Raphael was alone in his room again, feeling crushed by the impending quiet. Weeks ago, solitude had been his only wish, his only desire. But now he felt like he had been banished to the dark and silence because he just couldn't face his brothers. So there he stood, surrounded by his longtime friend the silence, suffocating under the weight of his guilt, ghosts of memory reminding him of what he had done.

He had hurt so many.

He had hurt his brothers.

He was selfish, cruel, and they hated him for it. Needless to say, he couldn't blame them.

But things were different now. Now he knew the burden he must take, for the sake of his brothers, for his family. Leo was counting on him to pick up the pieces and start again. In his heart, he knew he could never even begin to measure up to Leo, but he had vowed to try his damndest to hold them all together.

He sighed deeply and walked toward the window, peering out the cool glass to gaze out to fall's first threat of winter. Tiny snowflakes gathered on the wind, telling the tale of cold days to come.

But now the window didn't have the same appeal. The concrete no longer spoke his name, no longer promised him comfort in those frantic whispers, full of venomous fear. He hushed the voices, laid them to sleep, because he now knew what was waiting for him on the other side. There was no escaping from what he had done. There was nowhere left to run. It was time to stare his problems in the face and refuse to let himself fall apart. He had to stay strong, stay brave because Leo was counting on him. They all had counted on him, and now he just couldn't bare letting them down again.

* * *

Donny woke up the next morning and gazed sleepily at the clock, only to realize it wasn't morning at all. It was three o'clock in the afternoon.

Embarrassed at the time, he heaved himself up to sit and was quickly reminded of the splitting pain he had tried so hard to ignore. He had forgotten to take his meds that night, and now the burning sensation was enough to make his eyes water.

_At least it doesn't hurt like before _he told himself. Either it was getting better or he was just getting used to it.

Swallowing down the pills Mikey had left for him on the nightstand, he lay back down and tried to busy his mind so he wouldn't fall asleep again.

He looked over to the nightstand again and cringed as he saw the buffet his brother had laid out for him. Cereal, a peanut butter sandwich, even some cookies Mikey must have made while he was sleeping sat there waiting for him, staring back at him as if they had eyes. Usually, he wouldn't have turned down the cookies, but ever since he had gotten sick, eating had become more of a chore than a need or a pleasure. His stomach still wasn't the same it had been, and taking his pills without food definitely wasn't helping. But every time he looked at food, all he could remember was those disgusting milkshakes the nurses used to bring him when he was too sick to eat anything else. Every time he thought of them, he had to fight the urge to gag.

Once he got home, he thought he would be free, but Michelangelo wouldn't stop pushing more and more food on him. Donny knew that being sick had made him lose a lot of weight, but he just couldn't bring himself to eat the way he used to just yet.

After a while of staring blankly around the room, lost in thought, he felt his eyelids begin to droop and had to fight back the urge to fall back asleep. He knew that Mikey was probably right, he had pushed himself too hard going into Raph's room that night. But he was glad he did it. He was glad to find it out for himself.

He still wasn't sure what he thought of it all. It came as such a surprise, it had rendered him speechless. Still, he was speechless.

He closed his eyes and pictured the scar, straight and fragile, carved with surgical perfection, proving his brother's mastery of the blade. Yet still, it was red and angry, freshly healed and not quite faded. Donny wasn't sure it ever would fade. Like the jagged scars that graced his shell and plastron, he and his brother would carry their scars for life.

_So this is why Mikey's been acting so strange. _

But the sound of the door opening disturbed his musings.

"Hey Donny, how ya feelin?"

By now, Don hated that question. But he held back his cringe for the sake of his brother, masking it with a smile, and lied like he always did.

"I'm fine, Mikey. Don't worry so much."

"You didn't eat anything" he said, arms crossed against his plastron, eyes studying the untouched food. "You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

"No, Mikey, I'm ok, really" he promised, swatting his brother's hand away before he could feel his forehead. He really was tired of being babied.

Seeing the worry settle in behind his brother's eyes, he sighed and smiled. "Really, Mikey. I'll be ok. I just woke up. I'll have something later." But in truth, Donny didn't have any intention of eating a thing.

"Oh, ok" said Mikey, a little more relaxed this time.

_He might have gotten hardened by everything that's happened, but he's still just as naïve as always,_ Don thought to himself, feeling a little guilty_. I guess some things never change._

He watched his brother look expectantly in his direction, and finally broke down under the weight of his guilt. He reached over and grabbed a cookie, biting into it and chewing slowly, ignoring his stomach's protest. At least he didn't feel nauseous anymore. It just hurt now, like a sore muscle. But seeing a little light return to Mikey's eyes made it worth all the pain in the world.

Feeling a little sigh of relief, Mikey took his seat by his brother's bed.

"You look tired today."

"So do you" Don retorted.

_Man, he's gotten defensive, _he thought to himself. But he couldn't help but smile a little. _He's definitely the same old Don… stubborn as hell._

"What?"

"Nothing" Mikey said, brushing him off.

They sat in silence for a time as Don finished his cookie. Then, Mikey threw him that look again, the look that told it all.

Don let out a deep sigh and grabbed the peanut butter sandwich, picking it apart with his fingers and eating it bit by tiny bit.

"About last night…" Mikey began, his small smile turning into a frown. "I should have told you."

"Yeah, you should have" replied Don with mouth full of sandwich. He swallowed it down and looked at his brother accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mikey's eyes shifted to the floor, trying to avoid the answer he was doomed to produce.

"I…I couldn't." He moved his eyes up slowly to meet Don's. "I tried to tell you, that night you got so sick, the first night he tried it. But, I couldn't."

"I knew there was something you weren't saying. Why didn't you tell me everything? You know I don't like being left out."

"You were sick, Donny. I couldn't let you worry about things like that."

"Did Master Splinter know?"

Mikey shook his head. "No. I couldn't tell him either."

Donny frowned, but immediately regretted it when he saw his brother's reaction.

"I know what you're thinking" Mikey said, tears starting to choke his words. "You think I'm a coward. You think I can't deal with these things on my own, and you're right. I'm just a kid, Donny. I don't know how to do these things. I'm trying, but I can't."

Donny reached over and put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mikey. I probably would have done the same."

His little brother stared up at him, refusing to believe that his genius brother would ever make such a stupid mistake.

"No one should have to deal with this alone, though" Don chided softly. "You have to tell us. That's what we're here for."

"But…"

"No, Mikey." he interrupted "Like I've been saying all along, you worry too much. It's ok if you let us know. You can always talk to me, and Master Splinter too. Sensei would love it if you just talked to him once and a while. He worries about you whether you choose to tell him things or not."

"Yeah… I guess" he mumbled, looking away.

"You know I'm making sense, right? Nobody should feel like they're alone, especially you."

"I… I'm sorry Donny. I know I should have told someone. If I did, maybe Raph wouldn't have gotten so bad. Maybe we could have helped him sooner, you know, before he…"

Donny shook his head, squeezing his brother's arm reassuringly. "No Mikey, nobody could have known he would do that to himself. You couldn't have done anything more than you already did."

He didn't reply. These thoughts had obviously been eating away at him for a long time.

"Besides" Don said, smiling warmly "I think Raph's going to be fine."

"Yeah… I guess so." Mikey looked up to his brother, revealing the hurt that lingered in his eyes. "But I don't know if I will. I don't think I can ever forgive him."

"You don't have to forgive him just yet, Mikey. Trust me, you don't. I can't help but feel it too. What Raph did was a stupid thing to do. It hurt all of us, but you especially. Don't feel bad if you can't do it. Don't feel bad if you have to hate him a little. He's your brother, you'll find it in your heart to forgive him someday."

But Mikey only shook his head, his wide eyes brimming with the tears he forbade to fall.

"I don't think I can, Donny. I can't forgive him for leaving us. I can't forgive him for wanting to be dead more than he wanted to be with us."

He moved his eyes away from his brother's gaze, trying to hide the tears that promised to come.

"Does that make me a bad person, Donny?"

Don shook his head, gripping his brother's shoulder even more tightly. "No Mikey. You never will be a bad person. That's not who you are. You're incapable of it."

"But you were right, Donny. I have changed."

"Yes… we all have changed in one way or another. I know you've been through a lot, and that can change a person. But one day, you'll find it again, Mikey. It's tough growing up, I know, I've been there. It's just too bad it had to take all of this to make you realize it."

"But I don't want to grow up. I liked being a kid. I miss it."

The desperation in his brother's voice was enough to make Donny feel like he was going to cry too. His poor little brother had finally done it. He finally lost that childish glimmer in his eyes that had refused to fade after nineteen years. In the face of such tragedy, there was no way anyone could come out unchanged. That's what war did to people. It hardened them, showed them things they didn't want to see, made them do things they never wanted to do. Each of his brothers had seen it, did things that would haunt them for the rest of their lives, and they knew they had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

"I know Mikey. It's hard. But you're doing a great job taking care of us all."

He looked down to his brother's hidden face, drawing him up to meet his eyes. Finally, the tears had come to him, but Don didn't tease him for it, he didn't judge him or think he was weak. Right now, Michelangelo was the strongest person in the world. He had never admired his brother in this way before. There was no denying he was proud of him. Maturity fit him well.

"Mikey… I'm proud of you… thanks for everything you've done. You're the best brother anyone could ask for."

Mikey wiped away his tears with the palms of his hand and sniffed self-consciously. For so many days and so many nights, he had blamed himself, even hated himself for not doing enough. But now, Donny was thanking him. He was actually… proud of him.

"Now you don't need to worry so much ok? I know I say it a lot, but I really do mean it. Raph and I will be fine, and there's nothing more you can do than what you're doing right now. So please, don't forget to stop and take care of yourself once in a while, and don't forget that I'm always here if you need to talk."

"T-Thanks, Donny" he stuttered, still determined to mask his tears.

Then, the two brothers sat in silence for a while, letting the words soak in. That is, until a familiar humming sound pierced the air.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That humming… it's…" Donny could barely believe his ears. "oh my god it's the Portal."

"Huh? What portal?" Mikey asked amidst his confusion. He had nearly forgotten. But seeing the expression on his brother's face, he was quickly reminded. "Oh, the Portal. Yeah, Cody's been working on it for forever."

"By himself?"

"Yeah… what of it?"

Donny looked bewildered. "The last time we worked on the Portal it exploded into a charred mess. It practically melted from the inside out. How could Cody get it running all by himself?"

Mikey shrugged. "I dunno. He's smart, I guess. He gets it running, but something always goes wrong."

Then he heard someone shouting his name from downstairs. He ran to the door and was greeted immediately by the intensely deafening sound. He cupped his hands to his ears, not remembering a time when it had ever been this loud.

"Mikey! Mikey!" Cody was practically bouncing off the walls below him, shouting at the top of his lungs. "It works!" he screamed with uncontrollable ecstasy. "Tell Donny that it works!"

Mikey turned to his brother, his hands still pressed over his ears, and grinned extatically despite his tear-swollen eyes. "Donny! It works!"

"I heard him" Donny nodded over the ear-splitting sound, barely believing what he had heard, he mouthed the words that all his logic had made him forget, the words that childish hope had made him cling to in his dreams. "It works."


	20. Chapter 20: Sacrificing Lambs

Chapter 20: Sacrifice of Lambs

"What the hell is that noise!" Raph shouted over the balcony, his only hand now cupped over his ear. He looked to his left and saw Mikey was doing the same. A familiar joyous smile spread across his face. For a moment, he looked just like the same old Mikey.

"Mike, what's going on?"

Mikey made to look at him and his face fell, losing the precious smile that had once graced his hardened features.

"He's got it working" he said flatly, shouting over the noise.

Then just as quickly as it came, the tremendous hum snapped out of the air, letting the quiet reign again.

They both let their hands fall to their sides and stared at each other.

"…or not" said Mikey.

Raph glared down hotly at the boy standing below them, raining silent fury down upon him. Every second of the stare spoke of the understanding Raphael had pounded into the boy with his fists not too long ago.

Cody cringed and instinctively grasped his arm, which had healed only recently. He remembered the pain well.

"It better work" Raph growled, balling his hand into a fist "for your sake."

With fear in his eyes, he looked over towards Mikey, trying to ignore Raph's presence and hoping he would protect him if his hot-headed brother decided to attack.

Cody shook his head. "No, the Portal's fine. I installed an emergency shut off for when it starts to overload."

"So that means…" Mikey trailed with hope in his eyes.

Cody nodded.

"Finally we can blow this hell-hole" Raph sighed, putting his hand on the railing to glare at Cody from a better angle. He peered over the balcony threateningly, knowing that despite his efforts to ignore him, the boy was probably about to pee his pants in fear.

Raph liked to be feared, especially by little deserving bastards like Cody Jones.

"Raph, stop that" Mikey snapped, sounding a little too much like Leo. He was glaring at his brother now, but Raph was too busy making Cody squirm to notice.

Without taking his eyes away, Raph let out an irritated growl and prepared to tell his brother the truth.

"Don't you know what this little shit head did?" he roared, pointing accusingly to Cody's cowering form.

"Raphael!"

The sound of his sensei's voice made him cringe. He saw the old rat walk into the room to investigate the commotion and felt like he could have blushed. But this time, he felt justified to curse in front of Splinter. Cody was a shit head, along with every other offensive name he had in his vocabulary. This time, he wasn't going to apologize.

"No Sensei. If you knew what he did, you would see it. That kid is sick. Sick and twisted."

"That is no way to speak of the boy who welcomed us into his home."

Raph snorted. "Ha. Yeah, that's what he wants you to think, but he's got you fooled. He's got us all fooled. I knew all along that little bastard was holdin' out on us. I tried to warn ya, but none a you would listen."

"What are you talking about, Raph" Mike said blandly.

"Oh, now you want to listen to me, eh Mikey boy? Yeah, that's right. Maybe I am makin' some sense now. That little ass hole you call a friend is the one keepin' us here. He's not 'welcoming' us nowhere. He's holdin' us prisoner!" Raph roared, his voice echoing through the penthouse walls.

"I hate bein' caged" he muttered darkly under his breath.

"What do you mean?" asked Mikey, more pressing this time.

"He's been lettin' Don… lettin' all of us think he doesn't know how to fix the Portal. But ya know what he told me that night, the night I beat his little shit head into the ground? He told me he did know, that he was holdin' out on us on purpose. He brought us here and he won't send us back."

"Is this true, Mr. Jones?" said Master Splinter sadly.

Cody looked down at the ground, feeling crushed by the weight of the penetrating stares that surrounded him. He rubbed his healing arm subconsciously and refused to give them any answer.

"Is it true!"

This time, Cody looked up to the balcony along with each of the others, stunned to see Donatello clutching the doorframe, standing on unsteady feet. Sweat crowned his brow, but his look was determined. He wanted answers.

Mikey turned beside him and let his brother use his shoulder. He put a hand around Don's waist to steady him.

Cody's eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

"I-I…"

"Tell me!" Donny spat, more strength in his words than any of them had thought he was capable of.

"It's true."

The finality of thoes quiet words rang through the impending silence, the long pause that lingered as their worlds were turned upside down.

"W-why would you do this?" said Don weakly, like the very notion hurt him more than any injury could, this time, sounding more like his kind-hearted self.

Cody looked up at him with a river of tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. It was the first time any of them had ever seen the stubborn boy cry.

"It…wasn't supposed to be this way. I'm so… so sorry. All of you. I'm so sorry."

He kneeled to the ground, head bowed down in shame, hugged himself with his arms and wept for the loss of his friends, his family, falling into ruins by his own blood-stained hands.

"Do you know what you did?" hissed Mikey viscously as he still supported his ailling brother, but this time, holding him closer, knowing it never had to be this way. But it was. Because of him. Holding onto Donny was the only thing keeping him from jumping down and attacking the boy, making him suffer as much as his family had.

It was the only time he had truly wanted to kill someone, and this time, he felt like he could do it too.

"Five minutes" Mike spat harshly. "I'll give you five minutes to get that thing up and working. If it isn't ready by then, I swear to god you better run, because Raph and I are going to kill you."

He looked to his brother hotly, words coming as an order rather than a statement. "Raph. We're going home."

"I here that, bro" he said, a vicious grin appearing across his face "but I hope I can get into round or two before we leave."

"Raphael. There is no time. We are leaving _now._"

Snapping out of the red haze of his blood lust, Raph bowed quickly to his sensei. "Yes, sensei. Sorry."

Five minutes rushed by like water breaking from a dam. Each brother gathered up their scant belongings and made their way downstairs, preparing themselves to brave the journey home.

Cody looked forlorn and pale-faced standing next to the newly repaired machine.

When Mikey wheeled Don over to the machine, Donny was captivated. He wished there was more time to study it, to reveal the secrets that had eluded him for nearly a year, the science that had in the end, defeated him.

"I don't know how you did it" said Don weakly, taking it all in.

Cody breathed a shuttering breath as he decided how to answer. The damage had already been done, so he found no reason to hide the truth.

"You were right all along, Donny. All you had to do was calibrated the energy source. But I had it turned up to the wrong frequency. The power surge made it overload."

When Don drew his eyes up to the boy, there was anger and sorrow laced within his words. "So you sabotaged it. All my work and you ruined it for no reason."

"There was a reason" said Cody quietly, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

"Whatever that reason was, it wasn't worth my brother's life."

Cody didn't answer. He walked slowly to the control panel, eyes never lifting from the ground, and flipped open the control panel. Immediately, the receptors began to spit and sputter tiny charges of lighting electricity. The thin, twisting bolts of energy twisted and conjoined, meeting each other somewhere in the middle and expanding. The engine hummed louder as the energy increased. Cody slowly raised his eyes.

"It is capable of transporting inorganic matter now, but you can't put anything metal through" he said slowly, indicating Don's wheelchair.

Mikey threw his nunchakus to the ground and looked to Don.

"Think you can manage, bro?" Mikey said softly, helping his brother to his unsteady feet.

Seeing Donatello falter and nearly collapse, Raph took up his brother's other side and braced him with his remaining arm.

"I gotcha bro"

Don smiled this thank you over the loud humming of the engine and watched as the Porthole opened before their eyes, concentrated light turning into a rift, a great gaping hole into the world they knew so well, craved so deeply.

They could smell the city air, thick and putrid with pollution, but to them, rich with the sweetest perfume.

They could feel the breeze, a chill early winter gust on the air, threatening snow. Don shivered and his brothers held him tighter.

"You ready?" asked Raph, nodding to Mikey and then looking back to his sensei.

Before he resumed, Master Splinter's hand shot to his throat. He grabbed something there and pulled it hard, breaking the chain that held it. He withdrew the object, shining silver in his palm. He nodded to his sons.

But before they could go, Donny stopped them.

"Wait!"

They froze as Don craned his neck towards Cody.

"You need to destroy it" he said, his voice barely a whisper. "No matter what, you need to promise me you will destroy it."

Cody's heart sank. But still, he knew it had to be done. It was because of that machiene five lives had been ruined. Because he had built it, Leo had died. And then he knew, truly knew, that he had to keep his promise. Anything responsible for such horrors, such death, such destruction should never exist.

Cody nodded silently to Don, and they both knew. After they had crossed, the portal would be stamped out, erased from existance, never to unleash its hell on Earth again.

Turning back to the tear in reality, spanning space and time, the three took a deep gasping breath and walked through the rift, disappearing from one world to the next, leaving only their sensei behind.

Before he walked through the twisting gate, Master Splinter looked to Cody, the boy's sad blue eyes shining with tears. Without a word, he pressed the metal object into his palm, letting the chain dangle from his grip. Slowly, the old rat turned and left him as the emergency shut off cut short the power to the Porthole. The rift disappeared from sight, swallowing upon itself and abandoning him to the crushing quiet of loneliness once again. His family had left him and now, he was broken and alone, a murderer of souls.

His eyes caught hold of the metal piercing his closed palm. He unfurled his fingers slowly and revealed the silver lines, the beautiful arc to two crossed swords.

He closed his fist and let the edges bite into his flesh, shutting his eyes tightly as he pressed it to his beating heart.

And with that, his hand slowly drew upward to the control panel once again, pressing a small silver button on its underside, something that Don hadn't known to exist. The countdown began and he said his final prayers.

10…

_I'm sorry_

9…

_I'm so sorry_

8…

_For what I've done_

7…

_You didn't deserve this_

6…

_Don_

5…

_Raph_

4…

_Mikey_

3…

_Master Splinter_

2…

_Leo_

1…

_Goodbye_

The explosion was deafening as the inferno engulfed him in a single violent flash of fire, robbing his life's breath away as it seared and burned. And there he let himself slip into the instant darkness he knew was justified.

And there, his young life escaped him, still clutching Leo's silver medal in his palm, pressing it forever his ever beating heart.


	21. Chapter 21: Breaking Through

Chapter 21: Breaking Through

The light was blinding, engulfing, robbing them of their sight as they felt the ground leave beneath them, the quality of air change around them as they felt weightless, their beings torn to pieces, particle by particle, and reassembled on the other side.

The gray cloud-ridden sky spoke volumes.

"Where are we?" Mikey whispered "There aren't any street lamps here."

"Or people" said Raph.

"Thank God" whispered Don.

"I don't recognize this place" Raph said, brow knotted as his eyes surveyed his surroundings. There, only trees dotted the horizon, only a thick, white expanse of newly fallen snow spread before their feet.

"It's cold" shivered Don almost involuntarily. He had been planning to keep that thought to himself so that his brothers wouldn't worry, but it had just slipped out before he could stop it. "It's winter here, maybe December?" Don said trying to distract them from his uncontrollable tremors against the cold.

"But when we left it was September" said Mikey, a different kind of worry creeping into his voice.

"Chances are that we weren't transported back to exactly the time and date we were taken from. It was hard enough to get the Porthole to send us back to the right place."

"But what is this place? This ain't New York is it? It's too quiet. No sidewalks or traffic or nothin'."

Mikey looked around and peered up to the horizon just above the tree line. Finally, his eyes lit up and he pointed to the grey haze-covered skyline.

"Look! I see the Chrysler building! Over there! This has to be New York!"

Raph let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the massive skyscraper looming in the distance. "Yeah. I was startin' to think somethin' went wrong."

But then, Donny gasped.

"I know where we are" he said quickly, shaking more than ever under his brother's comforting grasps. But this time, they failed to comfort.

"What? Where?" Mikey demanded, inheriting Don's panic.

"Kerry Lake."

"Oh… the park. Duh" said Mikey, mentally smacking himself. His brothers seemed to have panicked over nothing.

"No, Mikey. Were standing _on _the lake."

From underneath their feet, the ice moaned and cracked.

"God damn it! Turtle luck's still runnin' true to form, ain't it? Raph breathed, trying to think light thoughts to keep his weight from cracking the fragile sheet of ice beneath his feet..

"Tread lightly, my sons, we do not want to break through" warned Master Splinter as all panicked gazes shot to Donatello. They all knew the danger they were in. If they broke through, Don wouldn't have the strength to swim.

"Shit!" cursed Raphael under his breath.

Splinter threw him a look. Even in a time of panic, foul language was unacceptable. He made a mental note that once they had made it safely back home, Raphael would receive a stern talking to about his new-found colorful language.

"Lighten your mind and the body will follow" instructed Splinter to his three sons, stepping lightly across the slick surface. But under their combined weight, the ice continued to moan and creek, threatening the frigid waters below.

Halfway across the frozen lake, Mikey felt Don start to collapse again. He tried to compensate for his brother's weight as he pulled him from his knees, but it was too late. His foot broke through the fragile sheet of glass and into the icy water below.

He pulled his foot away, throbbing from the instant cold as each of them froze.

From the small hole in the ice, emanating cracks radiated from its center, spreading outward like cruel talons, threatening to snatch them away into the depths of Kerry Lake.

"It's breaking! Run!" shouted Raph, heaving Donatello's weight up upon his shoulder, getting ready to make the mad dash to shore.

But after only a few steps, the ice gave way as the three brothers fell through into the numbing grip of the black frigid waters.

Master Splinter could only watch in panic as his three sons struggled and thrashed against the biting cold. If they did not get to the shore quickly, they would surly drown.

"My sons!" the old rat called from his perch on the ice above them "you must swim to shore! Northeast there is a low bank!"

"Keep his head above water!" shouted Raph to Mikey, desperately trying to keep himself above water and support Don with his one remaining arm.

"I can't hold him!" shouted Mikey in his desperation.

"Just do it! Northeast!"

The pain in their muscles pierced and stung like one thousand icy needles as they began to lose hot sensation to the cold. Their joints ached, their lungs begged for mercy, but they refused to stop, refused to ever let go.

Refusing to let go of his brother, Raph swallowed mouthful after mouthful of choking frigid water. The shoreline was in sight.

When they finally reached the grassy bank, Mikey felt like he could have kissed the ground. He heaved himself up from the water and dragged Donny onto shore, Raph closely following suit.

Shivering, the three brothers huddled together in the snow as Donny and Raph coughed up vast amounts of cold lake water from their lungs. The pain and numbness of cold took hold of their bodies as they sat, still clutching one another, shivering and pale.

Watching as their son's emerged, mostly unscathed, the old rat hopped gracefully from ice burg to floating ice burg without disturbing even a single ripple in the lake.

Raph watched on, glaring jealously at his sensei as he coughed up more burning lake water.

"Master Splinter" he said, voice trembling between coughs "how did ya do that?"

"A light mind, Raphael" the old rat said thoughtfully as he crouched down to Donatello, who was still sputtering miserably. But Splinter knew that it was by no fault of their own that his sons had fallen through. They weighed a good one hundred pounds heavier than he, and even the most skilled of ninja could not combat the forces of nature.

"Donatello, it is all right" he said gently, supporting his son as he coughed. "Breathe, my son."

"I'm tired" announced Mikey sleepily. He looked deathly pale and unsteady, laying back into the snow.

Master Splinter knew that the cold would soon come to claim his reptile sons into hibernation if he did not act quickly. It was a battle they had fought since their childhood, every winter for twenty years.

"Don't sleep Mikey" said Raph, his eyes half closed. "We hafta keep movin.'"

Don yawned and closed his eyes, but Master Splinter shook him awake, making his eyes open again.

"You stay awake too, Donny" yawned Mikey.

"We need ta get someplace warm" said Raph, heaving himself up onto unsteady feet.

"It's too light to move around. We'll get seen" reminded Mikey. It was a notion they had almost forgotten since experiencing the freedom of New Manhattan.

"We gotta go or else we'll sleep here 'till spring" he said, offering a hand to his younger brother.

Mikey got slowly to his feet, his joints still stiff from the cold. He stretched and then helped Raph lift Donny to his feet. Don's head nodded and looked like he had already given in to his drowsiness.

"Don!" Raph shouted in his ear. "Wake up!"

Don popped awake and looked up dazed, his eyes unfocused to where his brothers were taking him.

"There's an abandoned subway station under Fifth Ave. It should be…" Don trailed, his eyes closing again, his head lolling to the side. Raph shook him and he looked up to finish his sentence "…warmer there."

Moving like shadows underneath the ancient trees, the family slowly made their way out of Central Park. They took to the familiar winding ally ways down to Fifth Avenue where Don had indicated a manhole. They wrenched open the cover with numb fingers and slipped inside.

After a few excruciating minutes, they stumbled upon the subway station and to their relief, found it empty.

Down there, it was still cold, but warm enough to keep the turtles from falling asleep until the thaw.

"Bring him here, my sons" Master Splinter said, indicating to Donatello. Mikey and Raph eased his brother down to where their sensei sat cross-legged on the floor and rested Donny's head in their father's lap. Immediately, Don closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Raph stretched his hand out to wake his brother again, but Splinter stopped him.

"It is alright, my son, let him rest. The danger is over for now. He is simply exhausted."

The old rat stroked his son's head and felt the coldness of his skin. Taking off his kimono, he draped it over Don's sleeping body.

Don sniffed against the cold and coughed quietly in his sleep.

"I hope he doesn't get sick" said Mikey, arms crossed across his plastron, that familiar look of worry coming to his face once again.

"He will be alright for now, Michelangelo" Splinter reassured. "Each of you looked to have caught a chill. Please, keep moving to warm yourselves."

"We should probably go see what the lair's like… ya know… in case it's changed."

Mikey nodded to his brother, still hugging himself and staring at Don. "We could see if it's ok to go back home, get warm and get Don to bed."

"Be careful, my sons. I shall wait here with Donatello."

"Yes, sensei. We'll be back ASAP to give ya the word" said Raph, quickly bowing to his father before turning back down the tunnel from which they came, Michelangelo following closely behind.

* * *

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Michelangelo and Raphael made their way in silence, not knowing what lay in store for them when they finally approached their once beloved home.

After nearly ten minutes, Raph became irritated by the quiet and stopped on a nearby rooftop, turned and met his brother's running form.

Mikey made to run past and his hand stretched out to grab him.

"Wait, Mike."

Mikey only shrugged his brother off, and without losing momentum, he lept again, spanning the empty void between to buildings and landing with an easy grace on the next rooftop below.

Raph followed suit, this time, grabbing a hold of his brother and refusing to let go.

"Mike. Stop."

Mikey twisted in his brother's grip and glared him hard in the face.

"Let go of me Raph" he spat.

"No"

"We need to go. Don and Master Splinter are waiting."

"Not until ya talk ta me for a sec."

"Why?" Mikey said blandly.

"'Cause I don't like this. You and me. We used to be buds, Mike."

Mikey's eyes narrowed as he shook free from his brother's grasp. "Not anymore."

"Look, I know you're mad at me. Ya have a reason for it too. I'm sorry Mike. I'm sorry I…" Raph's voice trailed in the dark winter air "you know."

"Left us" Mikey finished.

"Yeah."

"I can't forgive you. Not yet, ok? So if that's what you want, you're not going to get it."

"No… it's ok if ya can't. I just… wanted ta say it again." Raph looked up into the sky, choked hazy brown with light pollution.

He looked to his brother again, a sincere concern glazing his eyes. "I don't wantcha like this Mikey. I don't like it."

"Well neither do I, but you don't hear me complain" Mikey snapped in reply.

"No, but I see it. I know it kills ya, Mike."

Mikey looked at his brother, slowly searching him, seeing all the changes in him… he had changed… a lot.

"I know ya think ya hafta be like this, ya know… strong for Donny, mad at me. 'Cause I felt it too. I know what we did. We killed a lot a people. Our brother died. I still have dreams about the blood, about Leo."

Mikey shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, again hugging his arms around his plastron.

"I do too. All the time" he whispered.

In the distance, a car alarm broke the quiet.

"Yeah" Raph sighed finally. "Just… whenever ya need ta talk… you know."

Then the two brothers turned and lept off the rooftop again, sprinting from one to another in an endless stream of subconscious movements, burned into their mind from the familiarity of it all.

"You did a pretty good job back there, Raph" Mikey said while leaping to the next roof, his feet planting softly on its rough surface, sprinting for the next. "You make a good leader."

He smiled to his brother over his shoulder. "Thanks, bro."

That was all the forgiveness Raph could have ever needed.

* * *

When they approached the final rooftop, they peered down to what they had remembered as a secluded little back ally street, where a manhole cover sat, planted in the concrete.

The Lair would be just ten minutes walk from where it sat, opening to a ladder and a maze of winding tunnels, all heavily guarded by Donatello's ingenious security system.

But when they looked down from the side of the building and peered into the familiar street, they could not believe their eyes. It had to have been a mistake.

Where the manhole cover had once been stood a gaping doorway, glass doors built into the street like a museum, planted far below the concrete. Stone steps dipped down to meet it. On the doors, the walls the ally way roads, signs littered the streets.

Slowly, Mikey read one out loud.

"Visit Sewer Manor… New York City's newest attraction. A marvel of science. A mystery to behold. Come explore the ledgend of the creatures that roamed this sewer home.

"Admission: 20 adult 5 dollars child."

Raph and Mikey were shaking, unable to believe their eyes. Raph looked over to his brother, his fist clenched, his heart thirsting for a battle.

Raph grinned at Mikey's wide fear-filled eyes and proclaimed "Guess it's time to drop in for a visit."

* * *

**Thank you all for your responses. You guys are great! I love you all!**

**Much Love, Willowfly**


	22. Chapter 22: Broken Glass

Chapter 22: Broken Glass

Raphael and Michelangelo slipped silently down the fire escape leading from the rooftop to press their faces and palms against the cool window glass. The dim light of a streetlamp poured into the winding sewer hallways, no longer broken and filthy, but preened and sterile. The familiar twists and curves no longer had the feel of home, but a sense of cold unwelcoming that gave the feeling of a museum, a display, an attraction of sorts.

"What did they do here?" Raph said in disbelief, thinking out loud as his breath clouded the glass with a misty haze. He wiped the fog away and pressed his forehead to the glass again, his hand blocking out the image of his reflection.

He really didn't want to see his reflection.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Mikey, eyes bewildered and unsure. If it had been the old days, he would have known better than to ask Raphael what he should do. But now, he seemed to have no other choice. He completely and utterly had no idea what to do. Their home had been found, turned into some kind of freak show attraction, and the very last thing in his life that would have stayed unchanged was gone, stripped away, exposed.

After losing so much, coming back home should have been their final relief, the one thing that was supposed to stay constant in thier ever-changing lives. But in that instant, Mikey could feel all hope of normalcy extinguish right before his eyes.

Pacing back and fourth in front of the glass like an angry gorilla at the zoo, Raphael worked out his plan. It wasn't as tactical as something Leo would cook up, but it would have to do.

With a furious howl, Raph delivered a merciless flying kick straight through the wall of glass, smashing it to pieces.

Then suddenly, an ear-piercing security alarm sounded through the quiet night, making them both jump. Mikey immediately pressed his palms to the sides of his head to drown out the sound.

"Turn it off!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, skeptical that Raph had even heard that.

Raphael searched desperately for something to stop the sound. He had left his sai behind, hoping he would soon return to them. But now, that hope was seriously running thin.

_Damn I wish Donny was here! _He thought as he searched. Finally finding the panel box, he did the only thing he knew he could do. Drawing his fist back he laid it into the panel box with all his strength, burying it deep into the machine, causing it to spit and sputter tiny jolts of electricity until the silence reigned again.

Raph drew back his hand and shook it free from the static pain of the jolts biting at his knuckles.

"Ow!"

"Well that was graceful. Good plan." Mikey said sarcastically as he grinned at his older brother.

Raph caught his grin and smiled back, happy to see Mikey smile again. Even if he was just being an asshole, it was the first hint of a joke he had made in months.

"Hey" Raph scowled "It's off ain't it?"

Stepping over the threshold of broken glass, he tiptoed over the razor-sharp fragments and put a hand on his brother's shell.

"It sure is weird just you and me."

"Yeah" Raph said as the two brothers began to walk down the familiar passageways that now looked so strange.

Noticing a glimmer of blood running down his brother's leg, he prodded Raph in the side and pointed to the gash.

"Raph, you cut your leg."

"Yeah. Stupid glass."

But neither of them stopped walking to examine the wound. Their hearts pounded in their throats as they turned the last corner and stumbled upon the entrance to their home.

Instead of the heavy plated door, sealed by Donny's wide array of security locks and sensors, a simple threshold stood bare and unprotected, welcoming any kind of strangers, enemies, whoever, into their once preciously guarded home.

They both froze in their tracks and stared, wide-eyed and horrified at what lay before them.

"You seein' what I'm seein'?" asked Raph, his voice filled with terrified shock.

"Uh huh" Mikey said slowly, refusing to tear his eyes away.

"Holy shell."

* * *

Master Splinter sat in the vast cavern of the abandoned subway station, listening to the constant sound of dripping water that fell from the ceiling and landed in a puddle beside his feet. The constant sound, steady like a metronome, was the only predictable thing his fragile life could offer.

He sat with his back up against the hard, cold stone and held Donatello closer as he shivered violently and sniffed from the biting cold.

Drip. Drip.

Every drop like a ticking clock, he waited for his sons.

Drip. Drip.

Every minute passing him by. Every minute soaked with danger and uncertainty.

Donatello stirred and opened his eyes. Blinking sleepily he lifted his head from the warmth of his sensei's lap and shivered.

He studied his surroundings and then looked to his father who sat, nearly meditating by a filthy pool of collecting water.

"Did we get to the station?"

"Yes, my son."

"I don't remember how we got here. How long was I out?"

"It has been a short while, my son. Raphael and Michelangelo have gone to scout the lair."

Donatello sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Shivering, he pulled his father's kimono around him tighter and braced himself against the cold.

"But… what if…"

Seeing his son losing his battle to the winter air, he sat closer to his son and lent him his own warmth. He laid a reassuring paw on Donatello's shoulder, trying to quell his worry.

"They will return shortly, my son. I do hope they are safe."

* * *

Michelangelo and Raphael split up in the darkness and walked quietly through the now unfamiliar passageways they had once called home.

It was clean and forbidding, unlivable and uncomfortable. It wasn't their home at all. It was more like a shrine to what had been.

His world covered in a dream-like haze, Michelangelo sauntered through the empty space and neared the wall of televisions he had once loved so much. The tattered couch were he and his brothers… all three of his brothers… would sit well into the night watching monster movies, rolling their eyes at him when he screamed like a girl and threw his popcorn all over for effect. He had always just done it for attention, to poke and prod for a reaction, but now Mikey felt like he really was going to scream, this time for real.

It was like a nightmare he just couldn't wake up from.

He approached the velvet rope that surrounded all his memories, clutched it in his hands and wondered.

"Why do they have the tvs roped off?"

From somewhere across the great expanse, Raph grunted.

"I gotta better question for ya Mike. What happened to Donny's lab?"

Mikey turned reluctantly from where he was standing and ran towards Raph "What do you mean?"

"It's gone. 'most everythin's gone."

Michelangelo stopped in his tracks next to his brother and stared at the corner of the old pumping station that had once been Donatello's lab.

"What would they want with Don's stuff?" Mikey asked, searching for any hint of the machines, computers, and seemingly endless supply of techno-gizmos that had once covered every inch of that part of the Lair.

"I dunno" said Raph, walking over to another corner of the Lair. His eyes were fixed on something nailed to the wall. "But it might have somethin' ta do with this."

"What? What is it Raph?" asked Mikey, bounding over to the spot on the wall that had captivated his brother's attention.

"Bishop."

"Huh?"

"The plaque on the wall says somthin' about EPA. Ya know, Bishop."

"What about it?"

"Just read it, dipstick" said Raph pointing to the writing on the plaque under the EPA logo.

Mikey read the text as quickly as he could manage and stared at the logo that crowned it.

"All it says is the 'exhibit' is sponsored by the Earth Protection Force."

"Yeah, that's 'nough for me. Bishop's up ta somethin' and I don't like it."

"But Bishop…"

"Bishop's not a good guy, Mike" Raphael interrupted "'specially now. I don't even want ta know what he's thinkin'"

"We hafta tell Don. What are we gunna do?"

Raph turned to his baby brother, watching panic the take a hold of him. It was time to think like a leader.

Thinking of a plan, Raph closed his eyes and thought of what his big brother would do. _Leo _he thought _I know ya said you'd always be there. Well, we kinda need your help. Now._ _What am I supposed ta do?"_

"Get all the supplies ya can carry and we'll make it for the subway station. ok?"

Mikey nodded and turned to run in the other direction.

"Try an' find some blankets an' stuff for Donny."

"I'm getting you some stuff too, so Donny can fix your leg. I know he'll want to sew that up."

Raph cringed at the thought, but looked down and noticed the gash in his leg. It was deeper than he had first thought.

His heart was racing when the sudden severity of the situation hit him. It really wasn't safe for them to be there. Something wasn't right in the air. It felt like a trap.

Raph turned and caught a movement in the corner of his eye that made him jump, his heart pounding even faster against his rib cage, he readied himself to strike.

With a small sigh of relief, he moved his eyes away from his reflection in the glass case beside him before he could make out the gruesome details.

Studying the contents of the case, his eyes widened at the sight. There before him stood each of their weapons, displayed like works of art behind the fragile glass.

Before he could think, Mikey snuck up behind him, his arms filled with blankets. Slung around his shoulder was Don's famous "bag of tricks."

"Don's room's still the same" he said, shifting his armful of stuff for a better grip. "They left this stuff in there. I still had to break open a padlock, though."

Raph didn't respond. He just kept staring at his sai, shining and new behind their glass prison. His fingers twitched into a fist.

_I won't let ya be caged_ he thought. _Nobody deserves that._

Mikey dropped the things he was carrying and stared at his nunchaku, the sai, then back to his brother. He watched Raph draw back his fist and prepare to break the glass.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting' my sai."

"Do you think that's a good idea? What if there's a…"

But before he could finish, Raph already had shattered the glass and was reaching for his sai. Then, before they could think, the security alarm sounded once again, but this time accompanied by another gut-wrenching sound… the sound of someone bursting through the glass doors. The sound of hurried footsteps barreling straight towards them.

* * *

Donatello sat with his sensei and pondered how long his brothers had been gone. It had been at least a half hour since he had woken up, but still there was no sign of them.

Master Splinter was busying himself gathering wads of old, damp newspaper he had found in one corner and making a nest around them for warmth.

Almost too afraid to look, Don reached into the pile and pulled out a sheet… part of the sports section… and looked slowly to the top of the page.

April 22, 2007.

His heart sank when he looked at the date. 2007, and it definitely wasn't April. The paper was old, but he didn't know how old. He rested his head back on the cold stone wall and pondered.

They had lost at least two years.

Staring mesmerized at the date on the yellowed paper, the name of the month made him remember. April. He needed to call April.

He knew that nearby there was an old payphone on the wall. He had found the abandoned station just weeks before they had left while he was trying to making a map of all the underground sewer networks. He did remember the phone, but was skeptical that it would actually work.

He spotted the old, faded telephone at the other end of the terminal. He tried to lift himself from the floor, but his muscles were too stiff from the cold, too weak to pull himself up to stand. He collapsed back onto the ground.

"M-Master Splinter."

The old rat turned.

"I'm sorry to ask you this. I need help. I have to get to that payphone over there."

"Of course my son" said the old rat, eager to help, but unsure how his own strength would fare under the weight.

"Will you be able to hold me?"

"I will try" said the old rat, bending over to lift his son. When he raised Donatello to his feet, they both could feel the other's strength wavering, but Donny just had to get to that phone.

If there was something wrong at the Lair, he needed to know before his brothers got into trouble. But he refused to acknowledge the thought that raced through the back of his mind. Even if there was something wrong, he could do little to help them.

When they finally reached the phone, Donny braced himself against the wall to relieve his sensei from the weight and fumbled with the reciever. Nearly dropping it in his shaking hands, he dialed the number to call collect and then called April's number.

He hoped, prayed that she still had the number he remembered so well. There was no guaranteeing that something hadn't changed.

But to his relief, the phone rang on the other end, proving it to be in working condition and calling a viable number. He waited, trying to slow his breathing, as the rings repeated themselves. Each one was like some cruel form of torture.

"Hello?"

Pins and needles shot down Don's spine as he heard her sweet, familiar voice.

"April"

There was a pause. A long, excruciating pause.

"Don?"

Again, silence. They could almost hear each others' hearts beating from the other end of the line.

"It's me April."

"Oh my God…Donny!" she breathed in excited relief "Is that you? Where have you been? I thought… I thought they'd taken you. Are... Is everyone ok?"

"Taken us?" said Don in confusion. There was something definitely wrong with that sentance. "Who's taken us? What are you talking about?"

April paused again on the line.

"April!"

"Donny… I'll explain later. Oh, thank God you're alright. It's been so long since… since… I thought… you were…"

"Don't cry April. Please, don't cry."

"Where are you guys?" she said, trying to collect her sobs.

"Not to far from you."

April's voice suddenly changed into a panicked demand. "You come here right now Donatello! All of you need to get here now!"

"What's going on April? You sound scared."

"I promise I'll explain when you get here. Just don't go back to the Lair! Whatever you do, you need to stay away from that place."

Donny could barely speak. He choked on the panic that rushed through him, threatening to strike him down.

"What's going on? April, Please! I need to know!"

"Donny! Now! There's no time."

Don felt like his heart was going to explode from beating so hard. He knew he was teetering near the edge of fainting.

"Ok, we'll be there" said Don weakly, trying to catch his breath.

Clutching the phone desperately, he made one final attempt for some answers.

"April" he said quietly, trying to steady the terror his shaking voice "what year is it?"

"What do you mean…" came her confused reply "it's 2008. You disappeared for three years. I thought you were..." she gasped quickly and Don knew she was crying. "Just get here, Ok."

"Ok" he said softly, barely able to force his throat to utter that one, small syllable. His shaking hand dropped the phone and let it dangle on the end of its silver chord. On April's end, the line went dead.


	23. Chapter 23: The Spider's Web

_Edited version 11/7/09_

Chapter 23: The Spider's Web

"Here comes the party," Raph said with a smirk as his hand reunited with one of his sai plucked from the shattered case. He watched with pleasure as a stream of men in dark glasses poured into the Lair. Looking to his brother, he struck his battle stance. "You ready, Mike?"

Mikey nodded as he reached into the broken case, withdrawing his nunchaku, twirling them expertly despite the recent lack of practice.

The lead agent stopped when he saw the two figures in the darkness, ready for the fight by the shattered weapons case. He picked up a communicator and spoke. "Prepare units Alpha and Delta. All squadrons to the Spider's Web. They're here. Two of the turtle creatures, Agent. Men, prepare to subdue..."

Before he could finish, Raph kicked the communicator out of his hand.

"'nuff a that," he growled.

The agent looked up, bewildered as the turtle used the butt of his sai to strike the top of his head. The man collapsed in a heap as the others prepared to retaliate.

Raph grinned, inviting the men into the fight. He picked up the communicator and tossed it to the leading agent, who caught it in midair. He froze in his tracks and stared wildly back at Raph as the other agents tried to get around him.

"We ain't goin' down easy, so ya better tell 'em this might take a while," he snarled.

But before the agent could come to his senses, Mikey had bowled him over, striking him with both nunchaku. He fell back and collapsed on the three men behind him, taking them all down together.

"'least they don't got guns," Raph quipped as he punched an agent square in the face, the blade of his sai turned inward to avoid any unnecessary death-blows.

Then, as if on queue, every black-cloaked agent withdrew a taser from his trench coat.

"Aww shell. Spoke too soon," Mike whined as he dodged a thrust from an agent bearing a blue electric charge. "I hate those things."

Raph delivered a kick to an unsuspecting agent, sending his taser flying through the air, then scuttling across the floor by Mikey's feet. The blue jolt of electricity extinguished and Mike yelped as he kicked it away.

"These guys are easier than I remember," Raph grinned, striking down four more agents.

Mikey twirled his nunchaku, making quick work of the hoard of agents that had managed to surround him, barely breaking a sweat. Once all opponents within striking distance were on the floor, he grinned evilly at Raph.

"Yeah. I bet you could fight 'em with one hand tied behind your back."

Raph turned and glared at his brother through narrowed eyes, barely paying attention as an agent lunged at him with a taser. He thrust his elbow sideways into the man's stomach, making him collapse, sputtering.

"That ain't funny," he growled, bitter anger creeping into his voice.

Mike took a step back, eyes widening. For a moment, Raph looked like he was going to attack him instead of the agents.

Raph took a step forward and turned the blade of his sai in his hands.

"Raph… I didn't… it was a joke!"

But before he could finish, the brothers heard a loud rumbling overhead.

"What's that?" Mike whispered, relieved to see Raph lowering his weapon to listen.

"Think it's helicopters," he murmured, watching the tiny streams of dust wrench themselves from the ceiling, hitting the floor around them. Then suddenly, shadows appeared at the mouth of the entrance. Muscles tense, Raph turned his stance toward the echoing footsteps of their new company with a growl in his throat. "Mike... get ready 'cause here comes a hell of a lot more."

* * *

"My son! My son! Donatello!"

Don opened his eyes a crack to see Master Splinter desperately shaking him awake. He gasped and sat upright when he remembered what April had said, the fear in her voice. _Don't go back to the Lair._

He hadn't had the heart to tell her. Mikey and Raph were already gone, and there was nothing either one of them could do about it now.

"What happened, Donatello? What did she say?"

Donny grew even paler when he tried to form the words. "There's something wrong, Sensei. She said whatever we do, we can't go back to the Lair."

Master Splinter's eyes widened as he released his grasp on Donatello's shoulders. "What danger do they face?"

Don shook his head. "She wouldn't tell me. She just said to stay away from that place."

"I must go to them," Splinter said urgently, fully intending to rush out of the station and find his wayward sons, no matter the danger. But Donatello caught his arm.

"Sensei, _please_ don't go. Whatever's happening, Mike and Raph are doing everything they can."

The old rat's muscles relaxed, nodding slowly though it took no weight off his heart. He sat across from his son and looked into his eyes. Gray, the color of slate, yet still so kind. Donatello had always been wise beyond his years, yet the experiences he had faced seemed to make him even more so.

"You are right, I am not the ninja I used to be. My presence would only hinder them. I only hope they will be able to put aside their current troubles and face their dangers together."

The old rat's eyes clouded as he lost himself to thought. _Their scars run so deeply. I only pray they can prevail despite their injured spirits._

But then, a bad feeling creeping through the air made him snap back to reality. He looked at his son sitting before him, eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded, staring blankly ahead. He was shivering, and looked deathly pale.

"Donatello... are you well?"

He swayed a little, then chose to lean against the wall for balance. He shook his head. "I'm just... tired," he said weakly. "I'll be fine."

"Then, sleep, my son. Perhaps things will be better when you awaken."

As Don pillowed his head on the cold ground, he let his heavy eyes fall shut, breathing his reply. "I hope so Sensei... I really do.

* * *

Within an instant, the Lair was filled with agents again, this time exploding from the entrance in a burst of laser guns. Mike and Raph did their best to dodge the bullets as they threatened to graze their bare skin.

When Mike flipped and landed next to his older brother, he managed to throw him a look that told it all. If he wasn't panicking before, he was definitely panicking now. "What do we do?" he said quickly, his voice betraying his fear as much as his eyes. "We can't hold them off just the two of us. Not when they have guns!"

Raph only shook his head, still grinning, thoroughly enjoying the battle.

"Raph! 'come on, get a grip! We can't do this alone. Guns are Leo's thing. You know, he'd slice off the barrels and stuff with his katana. What are we gunna do without him?"

Raph turned, brow furrowed in concentration. "Shut up, Mikey. Ya sound like a scared little girl. I gotta plan, okay?"

Bounding in opposite directions away from a beam of a laser gun, Mikey didn't feel any more reassured by the idea of Raph's little 'plan'.

"It better be better than your plan with the security alarm!"

Raph snorted, flipping in the air and dodging right on the landing, avoiding three more blast from the guns. Instead they ricocheted off the ground where he had landed, leaving behind a scar of steaming, cracked concrete.

Landing next to the shattered weapon's case again, Raph smiled at his own genius. "You're right, Mike. I can't do it with my sai, it gets me in too close."

He reached into the case and withdrew Leo's katana, strapping the sheathes to the back of his shell.

"What are you doing!?" Mike gasped, eyes wide in horror.

"Improvisin'."

Grasping the hilt of one of the katana, he drew one silver blade and charged into the hoard of gun-bearing agents. In the blink of an eye and a sudden slash of metal, Raph had sliced through the barrels of the first row of agents and kicked them in the gut. As they fell, he turned to Mikey.

"Don't jus' stand there. Ya gonna help me or what?"

A weak smile passed across the turtle's face as he twirled his nunchaku and entered the fight, taking down every agent Raph left defenseless.

"You know you're crazy, right?" He laughed in surprise as Raph's plan seemed to be working.

"Damn straight," Raph grinned as he sliced through another laser gun with Mikey following closely behind, delivering the final blows.

In a matter of minutes the two brothers had every agent on the ground and the bodies were really starting to pile up. There was barely a space on the floor where there wasn't some unconscious agent lying, moaning in pain.

As Raphael surveyed the damage, part of him wanted to stay and wait for more, but the new, more rational side of himself told him he should be looking for an escape route.

"We better get outta here before more come."

"I'm with you on that one, bro," Mikey lauged, gathering up Donny's bag and blankets he'd dropped on the floor before the fight.

Sheathing Leo's sword, Raph glanced around the Lair, hoping that no one knew about the secret door. He squinted up at the ceiling and found it mostly untouched.

"There's a door up there," he said, pointing. "I used ta use it ta sneak around Leo when I wasn't allowed ta go topside."

Mikey gawked upward, his eyes searching for the door. "So that's how you did it! I knew there was something!"

Raph's sheepish smile vanished when he heard the footsteps of more agents pouring into the passageways just outside the Lair. "Come on. Were outta here," he said, putting his hand behind Mikey's shell. He guided his brother up the ladder to the metal decks of the second floor.

"We gotta climb the walls to get ta that pipe. Does Don still got our shuko in there?"

Peering over the railing, Mike could see the shadowy figures of more men spilling out the hallway as the unconscious agents started regaining their wits. He could feel hot panic returning as he unzipped Donny's bag and started rummaging through.

"I…I don't see them in here… Wait! Here!" He pulled out one shuko and shuffled through to find the rest.

Raph used his teeth to wind the strap around his palm and glared furiously at the long shadows approaching the door.

"Hurry up, we ain't got all day!"

"Got 'em!" Mike said joyously as he withdrew two more shuko and wound them around his palm.

"Ok. Then we go up."

Once they burst through the hidden door, the two brothers crawled along the narrow passageway, pushing back thick cobwebs and dust.

"It's gross up here," Mike groaned in his disgust as he peeled a tangle of brown spider webs from his face.

Raph spotted a cockroach and bit his tongue. When it scuttled out of sight, he shuddered and tried to catch the breath he'd been holding.

"Yeah, well, gross means it hasn't been gotten to, which means they probably don't know 'bout it. So I'll take my chances."

Mike moaned as they passed by the carcass of a dead sewer rat half-rotted in a puddle of slimy water. "Eeeew."

"Stop bein' sucha princess and keep walkin'," Raph said, tugging his brother onward. "There's a manhole cover real close by. Maybe we got around 'em."

"I hope so," he shivered, trying to pretend he couldn't smell dead rat stench, "'cause I'm not doing this for nothing."

Raph pointed to the ceiling above him, bearing the round metal lid of a manhole cover. "There," he grunted ,"ya happy?"

"Oh thank god," Mike breathed, forgetting the rotting stench. He gagged and clamped a hand over his beak.

"You're such a drama queen," Raph said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh come on. You know it's gross," he pouted.

Raph didn't respond. His attention was elsewhere. Putting a finger to his lips, he slowly lifted the lid just a crack. "Coast is clear," he whispered, sliding the metal cover away. "Come on."

Silently, he hopped out of the passageway and disappeared.

"Raph!" Mikey whispered.

Raph's head popped back into sight.

"Catch!"

Heaving the duffel bag and rolled up blanket out the manhole, it collided with Raph, nearly bowling him over.

"You're such a douche bag," Raph growled as he steadied himself from the impact.

"Now that's not nice!" Mikey whined as he popped out of the manhole, pretending to be hurt.

Raph dropped the duffel bag onto the street and glared at his brother, fist clenched. "What the hell is you're problem?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

Mikey only stood there, smirking.

"And what the fuck was that arm joke about you little son-of-a-bitch!"

Finally losing control of his temper, Raph swung his fist at his brother's jaw.

"Awww… did I hurt your feelings?" Mikey taunted as he ducked his head to avoid the punch. "I'm just trying to have some fun, Raphie. Isn't that what you wanted, for me to go back to normal?"

"But this ain't normal!" Raph growled in his frustration.

"You're right. This isn't normal," he spat, grabbing the hilt of one of Leo's swords. "Who the hell do you think you are!?"

Raph's eyes narrowed as he slapped his brother's hand away.

"You can't replace him, Raph! Why are you trying to replace him!?"

Mikey's anger sounded like it could turn to tears at any moment.

"Mikey… I… That's not what I'm tryin' to do."

But Mike wouldn't be reasoned with. He only turned and began storming off. Raph ran to catch up with him. He grabbed his brother's arm, forcing him to stop and look at him.

"Mikey, c'mon, wait."

"Get away from me!" Mike snapped, trying to take off again.

"Leo told me to! He told me to take care of you guys!"

"To hell he did!"

For a moment, the two brothers stared venom into each other's eyes. That is, until the sound of helicopter blades penetrated the darkness above.

"Shit!" Raph cursed, watching the spotlights racing towards them. "Run!"

But the spotlights had already focused on them, and run as fast as they may, they just couldn't shake them off. The helicopters tailed them as they ran towards the docks. Soon enough, they were cornered at the edge of the frigid ocean, staring into the black water and then back to the sky, the helicopter's blades whirring overhead.

"We hafta jump!" Raph roared over the deafening sound, teetering on the cement edge of the old, crumbling dock. Mikey's eyes flashed a fearful protest, remembering well the painful dip they'd all just taken in Kerry Lake.

Then, the thunderous blast of gunfire erupted at their feet, leaving them no other choice.

"Jump!"


	24. Chapter 24: Underwater

Chapter 24: Underwater

Once the brothers plunged into the icy blackness, the world went silent around them as the heavy whirring of helicopters' blades skimmed the surface from above.

Raphael grabbed hold of his brother and motioned for him to swim, swim through the fridgid water to the sewage treatment plant, where a large culvert pipe would be their only chance for escape.

Mortar shells from helicopter cannons blasted through the water in slow motion, exploding around them like the Fourth of July night sky. The muffled booms of releasing ammunition pounded into their skulls as they swam, refusing to let the icy fingers of the cold and blackened waters to take their breath away.

Boom.

Wave after floating wave threatened to take them down, draw them under, blow them apart. But with each fiery attack, the blackened water lit up like a torch in the night, flashing glimpses of the pipe that beckoned them.

They swam for a good fifteen minutes, refusing to let even the slightest stroke or ripple penetrate the surface and give away their position. It was slow, cold, numb, but it was their only chance to survive.

At least the agents didn't know they could hold their breaths for thirty minutes at a time. Now, that skill was coming in more useful than ever.

As they swam, the sound of bursting mortars was abandoned in the distance. They hadn't seen them swim. As they reached the sewer pipe, they surfaced in the cramped strip of air between the water and the top of the pipe, just enough to catch their breaths.

Panting, they sat and listened to the faint echo of the arsenal assault still pounding the water's surface from above.

"I don't think they saw us" Mikey breathed, trying not to inhale more water in the inches of open space above him.

"Yeah. You ok?" Raph panted, watching the outline of his brother against the flash of more exploding ammunition. "No broken bones or nothin'?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Raphael smirked. "Good, 'cause you won't be for long!"

Raph lunged from the icy water and landed straight on top of his brother's head, holding him under just long enough to scare him, and laughing evilly as he got his revenge.

Mikey flailed and bubbled from under the water and Raph let his head go. With a mighty splash, Mikey resurfaced and choked.

"That wasn't funny" he panted and gagged on more black water.

"Wasn't supposed ta be" Raph glared.

"Oh get over it Raph!" Mikey yelled, his words echoing eerily through the darkened tunnel.

Raph opened his mouth to retaliate, but Mikey had sent a wall of water straight into his face, making him spit and sputter at the water reaching for his lungs.

"Damn it Mikey" he coughed.

"You asked for it. At least I didn't hold your head underwater."

"Ya could hold y're breath" Raph growled.

"Guess you can't then" Mikey smirked.

"Shut up Mikey!"

"No you shut up! You're the one that started it!"

"No you started it! You're tha one that threw tha damn bag at me!" Raph roared.

"And you're the one who took Leo's swords!"

There was a deafening pause as Raph suddenly grew hyper-aware of his older brother's swords strapped to the back of his shell. "What was I supposed ta do with 'em? Leave 'em there?"

"You can't replace him!"

"Mikey, I know! Stop actin' so weird about it. That's not what I'm tryin' ta do!"

"Then what _are_ you trying to do?" Mikey hissed.

Raphael shook his head as both turtles sat in the cramped water-logged pipe, surrounded by the tension of silence. Another mortar burst not too far away, lighting up the night sky in a sickly orange haze, drowning out the stars. He breathed deeply, trying to gain his composure, and looked at his little brother.

"This is stupid, Mikey. Ya know what Leo would say 'bout this, right?"

Mike breathed, slowly and deliberately, searching for his words in the darkness. "If we keep fighting we're going to get ourselves killed."

"Yeah" Raphael said flatly "We almost did, too."

Mikey sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes at his brother. "Ok, fine then. Forget it."

"For now" Raph growled. "Come on."

Tugging his baby brother by the arm, Raph crawled through the cramped sewer pipe back into the familiar underground passageways where danger lurked around every corner.

* * *

Donatello moaned loudly as he slowly returned to consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly despite the pounding in his head to see his sensei had somehow managed to get him back to the bed of newspapers and drape his kimono around him.

Then, he noticed what had woken him… the sound of echoing footsteps making their way down the subway tunnel.

_That's not good_ he thought to himself as he struggled to sit upright.

"Master Splinter" he said weakly "someone's coming."

But the old rat had already sprung into action, poised for battle, ready to protect his weakened son with every ounce of strength he possessed.

But to both their reliefs, the footsteps only revealed Mikey and Raph returning through the darkened subway tunnels, exhausted as refugees from their alarming misadventure.

"My sons!" breathed Master Splinter, stepping towards the two very dirty, very wet turtles.

With barely a greeting, Michelangelo parted from his brother with a glare and sat down next to Donatello.

Master Splinter immediately sensed something was wrong. An electric tension was buzzing through the air, thick with something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He eyed the angry gash on Raphael's leg and his heart skipped a beat.

"What has happened my sons?"

"We can't go back to the Lair" Raph said curtly.

"Why? What happened? What was over there?" asked Donny, eager to hear the reason behind April's warning.

"A trap" Raph snapped bluntly.

"What kind of trap?" Don said looking to Mikey who sat back against the wall beside him.

"I dunno, but whatever it is, it has something to do with Bishop."

"How do you know it's Bishop?"

"I think tha butt load of Agents that attacked us might have been tha first clue."

"You got attacked?" Don said, eyes growing suddenly wide in bewilderment. But the strain of the words was too much. He started coughing violently at the sensation of water still settled in his lungs.

Mikey looked at him with that familiar look of worry and Donny's heart sank to the floor.

"Donny, you look like death. You ok, bro?" came Raph's voice from the other side of the station.

Don couldn't answer as he struggled to calm his breath. Mikey rubbed the back of his shell as he continued to heave.

"It appears Donatello has fallen ill" said Master Splinter, frowning new lines of worry. "We must take him somewhere safe and warm for him to recuperate."

"I'm sorry Don. We meant to bring you a blanket, but I had to leave it when the helicopters…"

"Mikey! Don't you think Don's heard enough for now?" Raph growled, cutting him short.

Mikey bit back his words.

Finally, Don breathed deeply and looked into his little brother's worried blue eyes.

"It's ok Mikey. I want to know, remember."

"Not now" Raph interrupted. "Not until we get someplace safe. The sewers are crawlin' with Bishop's goons and I don't wanna take my chances sittin' here while there lookin' for us."

"April's" Donny managed to say as he choked back another fit of coughs emerging from his lungs. "I called her… on the phone… she's waiting for us."

Walking over to where his brothers sat, Raph offered his only hand to his sickly brother and heaved him up to stand. From the other side, Mikey helped brace him for the journey.

"Then April's it is. Ya ready, bro?"

Donatello nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

There was a faint knocking at April's apartment door… two light taps followed by one harder one.

That was Donatello's knock.

April bounded as fast as she could from her spot by the window where she had watched for any sign of them, hoping it all wasn't just a dream. She had waited so long for them beside that darkened window, telling herself that one day they would come back to her, one day, she would see them again. She had hoped like a fool, never letting the days of silence faze her, and waited endlessly for that day to come.

Today, she had heard Don's voice, and it seemed like a dream, a figment of her imagination. But she waited anyway. The knock had made it real.

As quick as she could, she flung open the door to see Donatello, pale-faced but still smiling warmly, between the brace of two brothers.

"Donny… Mikey… Raph. Oh my god" she gasped, flinging her arms around Donny's neck, her tears smearing onto his shoulder. "I thought…"

But then, Donatello was reminded… the crushing blow, the heaviness… the cracking of bone. He gasped and pushed her away.

"Donny… what?"

But Don only shook his head violently, snatched her hands in his own and drew her back to him.

"Sorry April, just had a claustrophobic moment" he smiled softly into her green eyes. He blushed when he remembered how pretty she was. Three years hadn't changed her much, but she was wearing her hair down. He liked it better that way.

Then, April gasped.

"W-what happened to you guys?"

She was staring directly at the harsh dark scars that graced his plastron. Donny backed away and swayed, caught by the reassuring grip of his brothers. He would have given anything for those beautiful green eyes to return to his, to ignore the ugliness that plagued him, the dark scars that reminded him of his weakness, of his fate.

"Donny needs a place ta lie down" said Raph, feeling his brother start to collapse again.

"What's going on? Don, are you ok?"

Donny only smiled that don't-worry-so-much smile he had practiced so well and brushed her question away. "I'm fine, April. I think I just caught a cold from the lake."

"Ok… I'm confused" she murmured, escorting the brothers to a spare bedroom.

"We will explain all we can once Donatello is resting, Miss O'Neil" said Master Splinter, placing a reassuring palm on her shoulder. "There is much to talk about."

Once Raph and Mikey got Don into bed, they turned to leave the room with Master Splinter sitting beside him.

"Guys, wait." Mikey pulled the door open a crack before he could close it fully. "You can't tell her."

Raph put his palm on the top of the door to wrench it from Mikey's grip and swing it open further.

"What do you mean we can't tell her?" he demanded. Behind him, April looked like she was going to lose it.

"You can't tell her about… about what happened… about… him…you know?"

"About the kid?"

"About everything."

"But she deserves to know!" shouted Mikey as he threw his arms around April, trying to comfort her tears.

"We can't disrupt the time/space continuum any more than we already have!" he retorted, but the strain sent him into another fit of coughing.

"Donny, get some rest" said Raph, swinging the door shut again. "We'll tell her what we have ta."

From behind the door, Donny didn't respond. He knew they couldn't just leave her in the dark. It would tear her apart.

_Just don't do anything stupid _he thought, losing himself to the beckon of sleep. He looked with heavy eyelids to his sensei, gazing back with worried eyes, obviously troubled by something deep.

_But how much worse could it possibly get?_

* * *

Mikey sat April down, shaking, at the kitchen table. She held a tissue up to her eyes and apologized over and over again.

"It's ok, April. It's kind of a lot to take in" Mikey reassured. "He isn't dying, so don't worry."

As Raph took his seat across the table from her, April's eyes met the bandaged end of his missing arm. She lowered the tissue to her lap and gawked through swimming eyes.

"B-But… what happened to you guys?"

Raph tried not to give her an evil look as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair beneath April's piercing stare.

"It's kind of a long story" he mumbled, wishing she would stop.

"You guys have been gone so long… I thought…"

"It's only been eight months, April" Mikey smiled, taking her hand from across the table. "You missed us that much? We've been gone longer than that before."

But April only shook her head, refusing to take her eyes off of Raph. "It's been three years."

Raph and Mikey looked at each other.

"Damn" Raph sputtered and sat back in his chair with a glazed expression. "This just keeps gettin' better an' better."

"You guys didn't know?"

Mikey and Raph shook their heads.

"But where did you guys go that you wouldn't know… that you would…"

Raph looked at the girl uneasily. She was staring at his arm again.

Mikey sighed and squeezed her hands between his to try to tear her gaze away. "April…there was a lot of things… bad things that happened to us and I don't know how much I can tell you. Don knows a lot more about the time/space thingy…"

"We went ta tha future" Raph said bluntly, cutting his brother short again and sparing himself Mikey's painfully drawn-out speech.

"What?"

"Tha future. One hundred years. We thought we was only there for eight months, but now that we finally got back, I guess not."

"Was it Renet… I thought she said she was done taking you places and…" Tears started to spring up in here eyes again as they desperately searched the room. "Where's Leo?"

The room fell silent as the turtles' hearts sank low, a sickening feeling pounding into them, like peeling the scab off a freshly healed wound and letting the blood flow to the surface. Raph shot a pleading look at Mikey. He couldn't do it. He had to tell her.

He looked down to their hands clutched together on the table, refusing to lift them away he spoke, voice barely a whisper. "April… we lost him."

Now April was really sobbing and Mikey's tears spilled over too. Raph turned his head away and looked up to the ceiling, pretending he wasn't about to cry.

"I'm so sorry" April managed to whisper through the sobs, drawing Mikey into a much needed hug. They sat there for a while, holding each other, Raph still staring red-eyed at the ceiling.

After a while, they managed to break themselves apart, April gaining more composure, determined for the answers.

"What happened" she demanded, wiping the tears from her swollen eyes. "You have to tell me."

Mikey looked at Raph, but Raph was still looking up at the ceiling, his breath coming to him in shuttering gasps.

"T-there was a war… between… Shredder and the Utroms and…"

"Mikey! That's enough! Let Don tell her the details. He knows more about this stuff than we do." Raph interrupted quickly, finally seeming to get a hold of himself.

"We can at least tell her what happened to us."

Raph nodded, glad his little brother was stepping to the plate. He had never been good at 'just talking.'

"How did Don…"

"We got into Shredder's fortress and Leo led us in. But we didn't know it was the Shredder. We thought he was some other guy called Xerxes… But Shredder… or Xerxes… whoever… had this big bodyguard dude he called Lithos… He was some kinda alien or something… but he was like, made of solid rock. Leo told me and Donny to take out that Lithos dude and he and Raph would go for Shredder. We fought for a while and… then I saw Raph."

Raph looked down at the table and refused to acknowledge his name in the story.

"Shredder musta got his arm… you know… there was a lot of blood so me an' Donny stopped to see if he was alright. Then I saw…a shadow."

He had started crying again, wiping away the stream of tears as he recounted his weakest moment.

"It's ok, Mikey. You don't have to tell me now."

Mikey looked up through tear filled eyes and wiped more away with his palm. He sniffed and shook his head. "I want to tell you, April. I need to tell you."

April patted his hand soothingly. "Ok Mikey. Take as much time as you need."

"T-the…the…" Mikey closed his eyes and shuttered, but opened them with a look of determination. "The shadow was this big chair… Shredder's throne-thing… the guy had it up over his head like he was gunna squash us… then I jumped out of the way…"

Mikey put his head on the table and sobbed harder than ever.

"I… Don… didn't move."

April rubbed the back of his shell while Raph studied the ceiling again.

"I shoudda s-saved him!" he sobbed, pounding his fist on the table. "I shoudda known he wouldn't move!"

"I'm sure you did the best that you could" April said softly, wishing it was lies… all lies.

_Why do bad things always happen to good people? Why them? Why always them?_

"I was all alone!" he wailed. "Once I killed that monster… I was all alone! I thought they were all dead! Everyone! All of them!"

"That's enough Mikey" Raph growled, still keeping his eyes to the ceiling, but fighting harder than ever to hold back the tears.

"I… I didn't know what to do! Donny was stuck… I couldn't get it offa him! And then I saw Raph… I saw Leo… there was so much blood! Rivers of blood! Oceans of blood! I just sat there covered in their blood and cried… It was the only thing I knew I could do."

"…Mikey" Raph sniffed, feeling his brother's deepest pain for the very first time. _No wonder he's been actin' so weird. I can't take this!_

"It's ok, it'll all be ok" April cooed, her hand brushing gently over the sobbing turtle's shoulders. "You're here now. You're safe, I promise."

"What else you wanna know April!" Raph roared, deciding that finally he'd had enough.

Mikey lifted his head and his sobs ceased.

"You wanna know how Leo died, right? He died 'cause a me! Cause I got my damn arm hacked off! I couldn't help him 'cause I was too busy bleedin' all over the place. Ya happy now? Now ya know the whole story, so that's enough!"

Like a rabid animal, Raphael shot up, fuming and seething with anger as his chair clattered onto the floor.

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore!" he bellowed as he turned and stormed off into the living room, leaving them both behind, bewildered and scarred, drowning in their own flooding tears.


	25. Chapter 25: Brighter Days

Chapter 25: Brighter Days

Raphael opened his eyes to the cool glow of a golden winter morning pouring in from the window, and for a moment, he had forgotten where he was, or even when he was. He eyes searched the living room of April's apartment and sighed. His family was safe, for now.

Chasing sleep away, he sat up on the couch were he had slept and listened to April and Casey's soft whispers coming from a nearby room. He smiled when he heard the gravel of his friend's voice. _He musta gotten here this morning, _he thought to himself as he looked at the clock on the DVD player. He'd slept almost till noon.

Looking out the window, he remembered the night before and vowed… _yesterday was yesterday. Today is today. I'm tired a livin' in the past… We're all safe an' that's all I can ask for._ He promised himself. _Today's gunna be a better day._

But he still couldn't get Bishop out of his head. He fought to keep his taste for revenge hidden in the back of his mind, not abandoning it, just letting it build, saving it for later.

_Bishop'll get his share of butt kicking. Just not now. We got other things ta deal with first._

He could hear Mikey's soft snores coming from the kitchen and he knew his little brother must have fallen asleep sprawled out on the kitchen table. The day before had been so exhausting, not just because of the incident at the Lair, but because having to tell April everything that had happened was a little like reliving the nightmare.

Raphael closed his eyes tight. _I gotta get past this. Mikey's gotta get past this._

He still couldn't believe his little brother's pain. Out of all his brothers, Mikey had been the only one left conscious in the end. No one had been there to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay, to tell him his brother's weren't dead. Or at least, two of them weren't. That was what had hardened him, what had given his eyes that look of constant worry. And his own scars had only made his little brother's wounds run deeper.

_No wonder he's so damn angry! _Raph thought, mentally kicking himself. _I never even thought of him! All those things I said… all those things I did to him… It just made things worse._

_I gotta stop thinkin' of myself and start thinkin' like a leader._

After one long, satisfying stretch, he softly padded into the kitchen. There Mikey slept, arms crossed on the table with his head resting down on top of them. Raph reached out and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey, Mike. Wake up."

Mike lifted his head from his hands and looked bleary-eyed at his brother standing over him.

"How'd ya sleep?"

He yawned deeply and sat upright in the chair, stretching his shoulders and neck from the stiffness that gripped them. "Not so good… I don't even remember closing my eyes."

"Yeah. I was tired too… 'specially after…"

Mikey stopped stretching and folded his hands on the table, looking down to avoid his brother's gaze. "Yeah… sorry about that" He said, half expecting his brother to make fun of him for crying like a girl.

But instead, Raph shook his head and placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "No, Mike, don't be. I guess I didn't really know how it all happened until…" He paused, swallowing hard. "Sorry I got mad. Guess I didn't think about it before… ya know… how you felt about it."

"Sucks doesn't it? It sucks being sad all the time."

"I know," he said, reaching for a chair and sitting across from his brother. His brother's eyes slowly drew up to meet his. "I know what it feels like."

Mikey didn't answer.

"All this time… I've been actin' like a jackass 'cause that's all I know how to act."

"I know," Mikey shrugged, a small smile on his lips now.

"No! That's not what I meant! I mean…" Raph rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away, trying to hide the hot flush of embarrassment that was creeping along his cheeks. "It's okay to be sad 'cause... you know…."

Mikey's eyes widened slightly at his brother's confession. _Wait a minute... Raph actually has feelings?_

"And it's okay ta be mad at me, 'cause I did a lot a stupid stuff that I can't take back. But I'm sorry for being sucha jackass. I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"No, you weren't. You weren't thinking at all."

But Raph didn't indulge himself to the invitation for more bickering. He shook his head and breathed. "I'm sorry, Mike. I'm sick of fightin' with you. We useta be buds, remember?"

Mikey nodded. "I remember."

"Why can't it jus' go back ta the way it useta be?"

"Because things aren't the way they used to be."

Raph was starting to look frustrated. "Come on Mikey! I'm pourin' my guts out here. Could ya at least listen ta me? Gimme a break!"

But Mikey didn't answer right away. He let his brother's words mull over in his head for a while. _This is Raph actually apologizing, how much longer are you going to stay mad at him?_

Everything within him told him no. He didn't want to be sad anymore. He didn't want to feel like this. He was sick of fighting, sick of feeling angry. Sure, things would never be the same, but when it all came down to it, he was the only one standing in his own way. Raph was going out on a limb for him. It was time he did the same.

"I forgive you," he said slowly, barely believing his own words.

A smile cracked across his face when he saw the light return to his big brother's eyes, the wave of relief that visibly washed over him. It felt like it was the first time in a long time that he smiled, truly smiled without a drop of venom or malaise. He wasn't smiling at revenge, or at cracking a cruel joke at his brother's expense. No, for the first time in years, it seemed, he was smiling for real. He breathed a little easier, like a weight had been physically lifted off his chest.

"Look at you," he giggled, "you're almost crying!"

Raph turned his head away. "Am not!" he sniffled stubbornly.

"You are too!" Mikey hooted, feeling his boundless energy return. He jumped from his chair and gently jabbed his brother in the shoulder. "Who's the princess now?"

"You're asking for it," Raph growled, but this time sporting a devious smile of his own.

"Maybe I am," Mikey bounced, bringing his face close to his brother's and sticking his tongue out like an idiot. "Naaaaa!"

"You're sucha baby. When're you gunna grow up, Mikey?" Raph laughed, putting his arm around his brother's neck and holding him in a headlock.

Soon enough, Mikey was kicking and screaming, trying to free himself. "Lemme go Raphie. This isn't funny!" he screeched. Kicking his brother's legs out from under him, Mikey wriggled free and pounced, and soon enough, the two brothers were rolling on the floor, locked in an endless wrestling match, just like the good old days.

Soon Raph was on top, pinning his brother's arms down with his knees, he pressed his hand down directly on top of his little brother's face, making him scream like a little girl.

"You never grow up! You got that?" He demanded, squishing his brother's face and laughing at the funny noises he was making.

Mikey tried to reply, but is sounded like some kind of garbled alien language instead.

"What's that?" Raph said, pretending he didn't know the reason why his brother couldn't form coherent words.

Mikey let out a high pitched scream and Raph let go of his face.

"I promise!" he squealed between the giggles. "I promise!"

* * *

"Guess Raph and Mikey are up to their old tricks again," smiled Donatello from the doorway as he watched his brothers' scuffle. "I hate to admit it, but it's good to see them at it again."

"I agree," said Master Splinter from behind. "And I am glad your strength is returning, my son."

Donny winced as one of Mikey's high-pitched screams came piercing from the living room. It definitely wasn't helping his headache, but seeing his brothers no longer at odds was making him feel whole lot better. He had made it all the way to the doorway on the first try without any help.

"I guess everyone's up," came April's voice from down the hall, Casey following closely behind, groggy and disheveled.

"Gee… what was you're first clue?" Casey said sarcastically. "Yo! Donny" he grinned as he stopped in front of the doorway. He greeted him with a friendly slap on the back. "Good ta see ya bro. How ya feelin'?"

"Good to see you too, Casey," Donny smiled, bracing himself against the doorframe to keep Casey from knocking him over. "Better, thank you."

"Ya better go in the kitchen, then. Ape's makin' pancakes," he grinned. "An' I gotta go see where Raph's gone off ta… have ya seen 'im?"

Another shriek came from across the living room.

"Neva mind… I got 'em," grunted the lumbering man as he bounded down the narrow hallway. "Heya, Masta Splinter." He waved over his shoulder before disappearing into the living room.

Master and pupil just looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. Even though it was good to see Casey again, it was just as good to see him leave. His clumsiness had always made them both quite nervous.

"So what do you think, Sensei?" Don asked. "Do you think it's all over? I mean… Raph and Mikey?"

Master Splinter stroked his beard as he contemplated his answer. "I do think your brothers have reached an understanding. Yet I do not know how Michelangelo will react to Raphael's leadership. He is having a hard time letting go of Leonardo."

Donny nodded slowly. "I know how he feels, Sensei."

The old rat sighed deeply and placed a reassuring paw on his son's shell. "As do I," he whispered, "as do I."

* * *

The smell of buttered pancakes filled the house while April made the food, humming happily. She couldn't remember the last time she had hummed… not since they had vanished.

It was sad what had happened to them, what happened to Leo, but now she couldn't help but feel a little glimmer of joy. They came back to her… even if they were one brother short, they had come back. For so long she had thought they were captured, or worse. When she got Donatello's phone call she could barely believe her ears.

She flipped another pancake onto a plate and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist. Making breakfast for six people was definitely hard work.

"Can I help?"

She turned and smiled shyly at Michelangelo, who was still out of breath from his tumble with Raph. But when she saw the look on his face, the light that had returned to his eyes, her smile grew wider.

He had come back.

As Michelangelo busied himself with frying a huge pan of scrambled eggs, April sighed, but never lost her smile. So much had changed. All of them had changed. Donatello seemed even quieter now, more reserved. As did Master Splinter. Raphael was different too… definitely more mature. He carried with him a heavy burden of concern for his brothers that he had not held before. His temper seemed more violent now, more explosive, yet less frequent than before.

Michelangelo, on the other hand, had scared her. That deep, penetrating sadness that surrounded him, gripped him close, stole the light away from his eyes, was so heavy, so heartbreaking it was hard for her to look. But now, he looked so different. In just a night's time, he was happy… full of the rekindled spark he always had.

April started to wonder if she had been imagining it all.

"Don't worry so much, April," Mikey smiled as he stirred the eggs. He almost laughed at himself for sounding just like Don.

April laughed nervously and pushed the hair away from her face. Then, Mikey's blue eyes met hers.

"Really. I mean it. Thanks for saving us, for letting us come here."

April blushed. She couldn't believe how much he had matured, too. "No problem, Mike."

The turtle smiled.

"So, you worked things out with Raph?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

They paused as the sound of cooking food and muffled voices from the other room were the only noises to fill the kitchen.

"A lot has changed, hasn't it?" April sighed as she scooped up another pancake.

Mikey didn't answer. He plated up the scrambled eggs and left them on the counter. "I'll go tell everyone it's ready," he said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the kitchen. But before he could disappear he stopped himself and turned back with one hand resting on the door frame.

"A lot has changed, April. But that doesn't mean you have to change. Me and Raph aren't gunna fight so much anymore. We're gunna make it better okay? We're gunna make it normal again."

April nodded sadly. She wasn't even sure what normal was anymore. "Okay Mikey," she whispered, unable to think of anything else.

"What happened… the war… it was a long time ago. Or at least it feels like it's been a long time. Donny's healing, Raph's better now, so I think it's going to be okay."

And with that, Mikey turned and left, leaving April speechless by the stove. She bit back tears before she could let them fall, and turned back to the stove.

_I hope you're right, Mikey. I really hope you're right._


	26. Chapter 26: PastPresentFuture

Chapter 26: PastPresentFuture

"Hey Mike, get in here! Casey and April are MARRIED!"

April nearly dropped her spatula when she heard Don's voice calling from the living room. Sprinting as fast as she could from the kitchen to find the source of the commotion, she stopped and froze in the living room threshold to see Casey blushing from ear to ear and Raph and Mikey rolling with laughter on the floor. Even Don was grinning mischievously and chuckling from his spot on the couch next to Casey.

She put her hands on her hips and threw Casey and evil glare. "Arnold Casey Jones! What happened to breaking it to them _slowly?"_

When her red-faced husband just looked at her dumbly and sat frozen as a rock, she looked accusingly to Donatello. "How did you find this out?" she demanded, trying her hardest to look mad so they wouldn't see her blushing.

"It's simple, really" Don said, still grinning that devious grin. He grabbed Casey's wrist and held up his hand for all to see. "He's wearing a wedding ring."

Then Raph and Mikey really started to roar with laughter, unable to speak or even breathe. Every time Raph tried to compose himself, he would get a glimpse of Casey blushing like an idiot with that ring around his finger and snort with more uncontrollable laughter.

Now she couldn't help but look embarrassed. She knew she was blushing beet red and couldn't do anything about it.

"You weren't supposed to wear the ring until we broke it to them" she glared at her doofus of a husband, blushing red as a fire truck, practically dying of embarrassment.

"Don't worry April, I figured it out long before I saw the ring. I heard you guys talking this morning when Casey came home, when you were talking about how to break it too us. No offense, April, but you're walls are pretty thin, and I was sleeping in the room right next door."

Finally, Mikey and Raph stopped laughing and were wiping tears from the corner of their eyes.

"Yeah, it was pretty obvious" giggled Mikey, taking a deep breath to stop himself from losing control again.

"We knew ya two love birds would tie tha knot someday" added Raph.

"Oh come on, we weren't that obvious, were we?" asked April.

"Yeah, ya were" Raph chuckled.

"That, and we already knew about it because…" But before Mikey could finish, Raph slapped his hand over his little brother's mouth.

"Shut up, Mikey" he warned.

"Don't you remember out little discussion?" asked Don.

Mikey nodded his head, unable to answer because Raph still had his hand over his mouth.

"I still can't believe it" Raph said, slowly shaking his head.

"I can't believe we missed it!" Mikey whined "tell me everything! How did you ask her?"

But Casey didn't answer. He still looked incapable of blinking much less thinking or speaking.

April giggled nervously from the doorway and the three turtles stared at her. "Umm…" she started "he didn't ask me, I asked him."

"You are so whipped!" yelled Raph, picking up a throw pillow and chucking it straight at Casey's head. On impact, he was jolted awake from his catatonic state, looking to defend whatever pride he had left to defend.

"I ain't whipped!" he yelled back.

"That ring on ya finga tells me a different story, Mrs. O'Neil."

"Shut up frog boy."

"Who ya callin' frog boy? Ya tha one whose slimy."

"I ain't slimy! Ya the one livin' in tha sewers!"

"At least I shower once in a while."

"Oh, ya so askin' for it."

"Ya wanna go?" challenged Raph, ready to prove to his friend exactly how much of a woman he really was. And instantly they were locked together, Casey battling for whatever was left of his pride, Raph just wanting to hear Casey scream like a girl.

April rolled her eyes and looked at Splinter sitting placidly in an armchair in the corner. It was amazing what that old rat could put up with.

"Ok ok... guys don't tear the house down! Can we at least eat before we start World War Three?" she yelled over the noise and name-calling.

"I'm hungry" piped Mikey, immediately standing up and running for the kitchen as Casey and Raph found themselves at a truce for the sake of pancakes.

"I know I'm starvin'" Raph added as Casey and he tried to squeeze through the same door.

April giggled as she watched the two goons struggle. Sure, things were different, but some things never change.

* * *

"When was the last time you guys ate?" April gasped with her eyes widened in shock as she watched Raphael and Michelangelo scarf down an unimaginable amount of food, barely having to chew.

"About a day and a half" pondered Donatello "But it's hard to tell with the time gap."

"Then aren't you hungry?" she asked, watching the quiet turtle pushing his food around with his fork, an uninterested look upon his face.

"Not really" he said quietly, trying to avoid looking at Mikey who was most definitely going try the whole guilt-trip act on him again. But to his surprise, it wasn't Mikey that issued the warning.

"Donatello ya eat that food or I'll shove it down ya throat for ya!" growled Raph happily with his mouth impossibly full.

Immediately Don put the food on his fork in his mouth. He knew Raph meant business when he used their full names. Usually it meant someone was going to get a butt-kicking.

Mikey smiled a look of thanks to his older brother between mouthfuls. But Raph just shrugged and shoveled more eggs into his mouth.

Once they finally had their fill, and April was left looking shell-shocked amongst a jungle of dirty dishes and bits of pancake strewn across her kitchen floor, Raph slammed his fork down on the table with finality.

"Ok now" he announced "we told ya our story, now you gotta tell us yours."

"Besides getting married" Mikey teased.

April and Casey exchanged a glance.

"Oh come on. Ya know exactly what I'm talkin' bout. The Lair, man! What happened ta it? It looked worse than when I useta go down there and get drunk off my ass…"

"Raphael!" Splinter interjected harshly.

"What?"

"I don't want to know."

"Oh, come on Sensei. I'm twenty years old" he moaned.

"Sorry, man. Drinkin' age is still twenty one" Casey teased. _Not like that ever stopped them._

"Yeah it was then too" Raph grumbled.

"And you're nineteen, not twenty" Donatello said matter-of-factly.

"Gee, thanks bro. I almost forgot" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his brainy little brother. "Anyway, that don't matter. What the fuck happened to the Lair?"

"Raphael!"

"Sorry Sensei" he winced "I'll try ta tone it down a little."

"Please" begged the old rat. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

"Well…" April began "ever since you guys left, Bishop's gotten a lot of publicity. Because of that last alien invasion… the one he made up that you guy's stopped… and the mutant attacks… people got pretty scared, so the president got the EPA to go public. Ever since, Bishop has his men combing the streets night and day for 'threatening extraterrestrial species.' So many people think Bishop's a good guy. People call him 'The Man Who Saved the Planet.' He's pretty big stuff now, so people follow him blindly. Sometimes it seems like he even has the president wrapped around his finger."

"Ok, that don't surprise me. Bishop is a fu…" he bit his tongue before he let his curse slip. "a creep." He shook his head in frustration. _'Creep' doesn't even begin ta describe that fucking bastard. _"But what's that gotta do with the Lair?"

"Once Bishop got his money he sent his goons ta look down in tha sewers" answered Casey.

"We saw them at night turning over the man hole covers and going down there for a whole month and a half." April's eyes were starting to well up again. "We… waited so long until it was safe, until they stopped looking."

Casey saw her tears and slung his arm around her, drawing her close to him so she could cry. That month and a half had easily been the scariest time of their lives.

"When tha freaks in black ova there stopped lookin' for ya we went down ta see if you guys were ok. But when we didn't find ya, we thought they did." The room went silent as even April's quiet tears went still. "Afta three years we thought you was dead."

"What about Leatherhead?" Donny asked, his voice swimming with concern.

"We went to find him a day later and he was missing too" April said from behind Casey's hug.

"But Leatherhead didn't come with us. What happened to him? Did you find him?" Donny pressed, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Four months later he showed up at the shop in the middle of the night. He was all scratched up and bleeding really bad. He broke both his arms trying to escape."

"Oh my god" Donny gasped "where is he now?"

April shook her head. "After I patched him up, he was having such bad mood swings. He said it was too dangerous for him to stay with us. He didn't fit in the apartment door, anyway, so Casey drove him to his grandma's farm and he's been living there ever since."

"Did… Bishop _do _anything to him?" Donny asked.

"He's… pretty badly shook up. That was two years ago and he still hasn't gotten over it. He hasn't told me anything about it, just how he escaped. He had to kill a lot of people, and that broke his heart. But I think that because he thought you guys were dead, he had a really hard time. He hasn't been the same since."

"Poor Leatherhead" Don sighed, looking distant.

"Not much time after that a couple of sewer workers stumbled on your lair and reported it to the EPA. That's when they built the exhibit. It was all the proof Bishop needed to get more money from the government and flaunt it in the people's faces that there really were 'monsters' living right under their noses. But most of all, I think he just wanted to expose you, to tell you guys there was no where else to hide. We had no idea why he did it before, but now it all makes sense. He was probably so frustrated that he couldn't find you, that you guys had just disappeared into thin air."

"Literally" Mikey added, trying to break the tension.

But Raph was doing the exact opposite effect. He was feeding off the tension, drawing on it to bring to life that pounding blood lust, that thirst for revenge that had never left the back of his mind. Feeling the anger return to his bloodstream, he reached for his sai and slammed it into the table, leaving its point buried into the wood, its handle sticking straight up to the ceiling.

Everyone jumped and leaned away, staring wide-eyed at the silver weapon embedded in the table.

"Ok I'm tired a talkin' bout it. We gotta do somethin' about this. Bishop can't just get away with hurtin' our friends, turnin' our home into a museum. That bastard's gotta pay for what he did, and I won't rest till he's cold and dead at the business end a my sai!"

"Remember who he was in the future, Raph" Donatello warned cryptically, hoping April and Casey wouldn't pick up on that morsel of information.

"Yeah well he wasn't that great a guy in tha future either. Look what he's done ta us, Don. Look what happened ta Leo. I ain't gunna just stand by an' watch as he hunts us like dogs, ok?"

"We have to do it another way, Raph. We can't just go in there and kill him. He did a lot of good between now and then. Don't forget about that. Maybe we can find a way to… inspire his change of heart more quickly?"

"How'd ya suppose we do that, Don?" Raph pried skeptically.

Donatello shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm sure I'll think of something. Maybe we can just give him enough of a setback that he can't hunt anything anymore. Maybe I can…" Soon, Don was lost in thought, contemplating various viruses and worms that could cause enough damage to put Bishop out of the hunting business forever.

"We hafta warn him" Mikey said quietly, his eyes glazing over in a far-off look. "We hafta tell him about the war, about Shredder escaping from his asteroid. Then maybe…" He paused when he noticed everyone looking at him. "Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe we can undo everything."

"It's possible, but not probable" Donatello mused. But he stopped when he saw the pain-filled look in his brother's once hopeful eyes. "It's ok, Mikey" Don said, tearing himself away from his thought process for the sake of his little brother's broken heart. "We can do that too."

With those words of reassurance, he looked more content. Smiling slightly to himself, he took another drink of his orange juice.

_Poor kid_ thought Don _he actually thinks there's a chance he can undo it. It's going to be a hard lesson for him to learn when he finds out that time and space aren't that easy to reverse._

"But before we do anything, I need to speak to Leatherhead. If he knows how to get in and get out of Bishop's headquarters, he may have some valuable information." Don decided as he looked to April and Casey. "Do you think you guys can drive us down there?"

"He would be relieved to see you guys are alive" April smiled. She knew it could be the only thing that could mend the crocodile's broken heart. "Just be ready when you see him, because he isn't the same person he was."

"I am sure we will understand, Miss O'Neil… or Ms. Jones, I should say" said Master Splinter.

"Both, actually. I go by O'Neil-Jones" April corrected.

"Ah, yes. Either way, I am sure we will understand. We have all witnessed the evils the Bishop of this time is capable of inflicting on those different from himself."

"I'm sure it'll be great" April reassured, trying to mask her worried expression with a smile.

"So what are we waiting for?" beamed Mikey, looking around the table excitedly "Road trip!"

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**

**Much love to you all,**

**Willowfly**


	27. Chapter 27: Something Real

Chapter 27: Something Real

The fire burned and twisted before him, a hungry and merciless blaze. But what he did feel was not the heat of its blue-crowned core. What he did see was not the gentle glow of the savage flame. To him, the nightmare will never end, and his mind would forever teeter on the brink of what is real and what is memory.

_The electric sound, the terrifying sparkle of chrome against the harsh fluorescent light, the twinge of fear, the burning rage, the instinct of self-preservation. The piercing blade, the angry knife, the leather straps that bound him. There he was an animal once again, bound upon the dissecting table._

False reality had never felt so real behind those yellow eyes as he clutched a well-worn book he meant to read, but the thoughts that haunt him stole away his mind again, submerging him into this alternate world of blood, of breath, of fear. He clutched the book ever more closely to hold on to his own self, what is now and no longer then, like an anchor into something real. Though no matter how tightly he held on, he always seemed to slip away.

_The searing pain, the cutting knife buried deep within his flesh, his soul in pieces, his body exposed to calculating minds, studying his entrials like the gears of a clock. His mind was foggy but his brain did see the horrors that had been done. The skin was cracked with surgical precision, life's blood draining from his veins as the organs were exposed, heart beating behind the bone cage, muscles screaming to fight on._

But what his eyes did not see, was more frightening than the torture. It was him… the man of wildest fears, dressed in black behind those dark glasses, he wore a cold stone sneer.

Monster. He was nothing but a monster, and he would never be safe again, not with the world like it is. Creatures like him were hunted for sport, their carcasses paraded before frightened eyes, those who would never understand, but believe they do. To wide panicked eyes, they were monsters, ravaged and bloodthirsty, incapable of feeling or emotion, incapable of the limitless soul.

But they were wrong, though not about himself, for once he knew, days that seemed so long ago, a family of those like him, changed by Utrom genius to think, to feel, to act as those who call themselves 'civilized,' though never live up to the meaning. He had once known four brothers, as kindly and passionate as any he had ever known, who fought for the weak and the helpless, who defended the world that had turned against them since their birth.

But the world was different now, and he was left to live alone in this exile of dust and cracked wood floorboards, the solitude of snow, the twisting hunger of the fire his only light and company.

He closed his eyes and cringed.

_The hum, that terrible hum of dissecting tools, he could hear their screams, see their blood spatter on the floor like thick, red rain. None of them deserved this fate of blood and chrome and humanity. Humanity of the flesh-eaters, the fear-plagued blindness that gripped them all into misunderstanding, only fearing, only thirsting for their blood, their death._

_Those that are different shall perish by his hands, probed until every ounce of life is gone. And then, the people will rejoice, another monster is slain. No longer to feed upon the flesh of their children, terrorize their loved ones, destroy their lives and homes._

_ None of them would ever understand. These are people dying at their hands. For a person is not merely one carved from human flesh and bone. It is the capacity to think and feel, to dwell upon the transcendent, to have a soul._

He had a soul once, though it was blackened now.

_Yet his friends, his dear sweet friends, had souls the size of oceans with the strength of one hundred sweeping tides._

In the night, he uttered his prayer. "Sway me, Oh tides of the earth, for I am not the one who deserves this life. Offer up my own to spare the souls of those more worthy than I."

He growled low to finish his plea as he caught the glint of dark glasses in his mind's eye. "Those that have perished at his hands."

_This is hopeless, Leatherhead. Why do you pray to a god that has abandoned you?_

His deep-toned voice rang through the quiet house amidst the crackling of the fire. "I suppose have not given up hope," he said to no one.

_Hope has left you behind. What is there to hope for now?_

"Hope is all I have, thus I cannot let it go."

_You used to be strong, so full of boundless rage. Do you not remember the rush, the satisfaction of broken leather and cracking bones, their blood that stained your hands?_

"I do not remember these things," he growled, trying his best to block the sounds that pounded through his brain.

_You remember it, and you enjoyed it. You are an animal, a beast, a monster and a killer._

He shook his head to the empty air. "No, my friend, you are wrong. I can control you."

The voice within cackled harshly at the notion. _"I cannot be controlled."_

Then, a flicker of light cast itself across the living room wall, making his eyes leap up to meet it, the reflection of headlights through dirty window panes. Every heartbeat told him to run, to hide, to fight back the fate that the light could bring him. They were still hunting. They were always hunting.

He stood from where he sat, abandoning the tatter book to fall onto the ground, and let out a low, feral growl. His muscles tensed and ached for a fight, his brain howled for revenge, and his yellow eyes became mere slits of their former selves as the beast within emerged from the darkness.

* * *

Casey's van tore through the ice and snow on the winding country roads, its headlights piercing through its midnight blackness. But the darkness was their shroud, for that was the only time it was safe enough to travel without being spotted by EPA agents who surveyed vehicles by day, always thirsting for the hunt.

Donatello's soft snores were the only sound that broke the silence. After four hours in the van, everyone had grown weary and cramped, so conversation suffered.

"Is that him snoring?" Mikey asked Raphael, motioning to his sleeping brother who had dozed off on his oldest brother's shoulder.

"Yeah, it's weird, he never snores."

"I don't think he's feeling too well, Raph. He's hiding it, but I can tell."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah, he feels a little hot. Think the lake's finally catchin' up with him."

Silently, both Michelangelo and Raphael cursed their luck. Of course the Portal had to open up in the middle of a frozen lake in December.

"We're almost there," said Casey, turning in the driver's seat. But that made April nervous.

"Will you watch the road?" she scolded, slapping his arm lightly.

"Geez, fine," he groaned, turning back to the slush-covered road.

"Maybe we should wake him up," Mikey said to his brother once he heard the crunch of gravel under the tires.

Raphael nodded and gently jabbed his brother's side with his elbow, whispering in his ear "Hey, Don, we're here."

Donatello winced at the pain in his side. His brother must have forgotten he was still sore. His eyes fluttered open to see the headlights bathing the side of the old farmhouse. He sniffed and tried to breathe deeply, but a fit of deep, chesty coughs seized him instead.

"You ok?" Raph asked, rubbing his brother's shell as he coughed.

Donatello nodded once the fit had passed him.

"Eeew!" moaned Michelangelo, looking a little sick himself as he motioned to his older brother's snout. "You got snot all over the place!"

Don's hand reached up to his snout to find his nose was running heavily.

"Does anyone have a tissue?" he asked in a congested voice.

From the passenger's seat, April fumbled through the glove compartment and handed Donny a napkin.

"That cold a yours is finally catchin' up on ya, huh Donny?"

Don nodded as he blew his nose. "Yeah, but it's nothing serious guys, don't worry."

"Maybe you should stay in the car, bro," said a concerned Michelangelo.

Donny shook his head. "No, the house will probably be warmer, anyway."

"That ain't what we're worried about, Donny" said Raph, his voice edging on the same concern. "If Leatherhead's hallucinatin' like April and Casey said, it might be a good idea ta stay here, at least 'til we know he ain't gunna attack us or nothin'."

"No, Raph, Leatherhead's my friend. Maybe he'll listen to me."

"He thinks we're dead. Do ya really think he wouldn't hurt someone he thinks ain't real?"

There was a pause before he answered. Raphael had a point, but still, Don was determined to help his friend the only way he can, by being there for him. "I'm coming with you whether you like it or not" he said stubbornly.

"No you ain't" Raph growled "I'll lock ya in here."

"I can still get out if you lock me in, Raph," Don said skeptically.

"Just let him come," sighed Mike, "he'll figure out a way even if we won't let him."

"He's right'," nodded Don, sniffing again, wishing there was another tissue.

"Just don't sneeze on me, ok?" said Raph, hating to admit defeat.

Don smiled and nodded at his brothers. "Thanks, guys."

"Just don't be surprised if he doesn't recognize your voice, Donny. You sound like you have a speech impediment or something," Mikey teased.

Donny turned in his seat and glared at his little brother. "That's right, make fun of the sick turtle," he accused, blowing his nose on another napkin April handed him.

"What was that? Say turtle again, it just sounds like a noise," he giggled. "Durdel."

"Michelangelo!" scolded Master Splinter who was sitting in the back seat beside him.

"What? It's making him laugh, and you know people say that laughter's the best medicine…" But everyone glared at him when Donatello's laughter turned into more chesty coughing.

"Ok, fine," he groaned, crossing his arms over his plastron.

"Are we goin' or what?" Casey complained from the driver's seat. "I've been parked here for like five minutes."

"Don't get ya panties in a bunch, Case, we're goin'" said Raph, sliding open the van door, letting in the clawing icy fingers of the cold.

* * *

_They are coming! Be prepared to fight, take your revenge, spill their blood as you did in the past, feed off of me, I am your strength._

Leatherhead shook his head and his eyes returned their warmth. "No, rage and war brings only suffering. I am a civilized creature; I shall try to reason with them."

_Reason? These animals have no reason! They know only blood, they hunger for your flesh. Do you not remember? Do you not feel the pain that lingers behind your scars? They have maimed you for life, repay them in the same!_

"Violence brings us nowhere," he said to the darkness in his most soothing voice, trying to stifle the low growl that escaped his lips. He blinked and his eyes glowed yellow slits once more.

A soft knock on the door made him turn, growling louder this time.

_Use it! Feed off it! Destroy them!_

His heart pounded with coursing adrenaline as he thundered to the door, clutched its metal handle and ripped it straight out of the wood, thrashing the door open, breaking it to splinters when it hit the wall behind it, making it dangle by one metal hinge.

"What do you want from me!" he roared, taking hold of the larger of the two in his massive hand and slamming him into the wall. He breathed hot into his face, making his eyes widen in fear.

The eyes…no longer shrouded by dark glasses in his mind's eye, but a dark navy blue clouded in terror. His own eyes blinked as they lost their rage and hardness.

"Casey…my friend… I am sorry," he breathed, letting the man slide from his grasp onto the floor.

"It's ok, Leatherhead, I'm fine. Ya didn't hurt nothin'."

Feeling that familiar pang of guilt from his lack of self-control, Leatherhead smiled sheepishly and beckoned his two guests to sit beside the fire. "Please, come in from the cold," he soothed, trying to regain an air of civility. But the two humans in his doorway did not move.

"We…" April started, seriously thinking twice about brining the others to his attention, but she knew Donny couldn't stand for much longer, especially outside in the biting cold when he was sick. "We brought some guests, Leatherhead. Now I'm going to bring them in slowly. If you feel like you're losing control, we'll leave, ok?"

The crocodile nodded.

_She brings with her the enemy! They thirst for your blood!_

But to his dismay, three turtles stumbled in through the doorway, the one in the center looking as if he would collapse if the others had not held him on his feet. Behind them hobbled an old rat clutching his walking stick.

Leatherhead's eyes widened as Casey fumbled with the broken door, slamming his shoulder into it to make it latch again. He was absolutely speechless.

But logic told him no. It was just another illusion, his mind playing tricks with shadows on the wall. These were his friends, a tortured hallucination of his fractured mind. Shaking his head, he turned slowly back to the fire, abandoning the images that had fooled him. They weren't real. After three years, there was no logic in that.

"Please," he begged, "leave me, spirits. I have no time for ghosts."

"We're not ghosts, Leatherhead," said the weakest in a sickly voice.

"We're real, I swear," promised another.

But the old croc did not turn. He gazed into the fire, convincing himself of what is fact and what is fiction. When the edges blurred, he found himself teetering on the edge of reality.

The weakest one collapsed in his brother's arms, sending a sound of surprise echoing through the old, moldy walls.

"Is he alright?" asked April, reaching out to the failing turtle.

"I think he fell asleep standing up," said one.

"We gotta get 'im lyin' down. Talk ta him April! Tell 'im were real!" begged the other.

"Leatherhead, don't you recognize them? Do you see Donatello? He's sick and needs to rest. Can we put him on your couch?"

The old croc did not respond. He was still entranced within the fire.

"Ta hell with him, come on Mikey, put him here," said another, anger stinging in his voice.

The three made their way slowly to the old worn sofa before him, laying their brother down as he coughed violently. He looked down and watched with saddened amazement as his vision seemed to change. Every time Donatello appeared to him, he was happy, well, working in the laboratory or discussing one theory or another. Sometimes he would even envision him fighting back foot ninja the day they stormed Saki's party. But this wasn't a Donatello he had ever seen before, the dark twisting scars that ran like black lighting through his shell and plastron, the pale color to his olive skin, the sweat on his brow. This was not simply an imagining of his mind.

Then, he felt the sensation on his hand, his pleading touch as he held on, his skin feeling warmer than it should be. The contact, the touch that sent electricity down the old croc's spine as he looked from his hand to his face told him a different story. It begged him to believe.

"Leatherhead, please, why don't you believe us?" he whispered, his eyes pleading with him from behind the purple mask. He had to take a step backwards as the notion struck him.

They were real. Visions could not touch, they could not make warm sensations on his skin. No, this was no figment of his imagination, this was Donatello and his family sitting in his house, waiting for his mind to accept them. This was the impossible.

"Donatello… It is good to see you again my friend. It is good to see you all, Master Splinter, Raphael, Michelangelo… how did you get here? This is logically impossible."

"Oh, it's possible alright," said Raphael watching him through suspicious eyes. His strange behavior had obviously made the turtle worry for the safety of his friends and family. Leatherhead turned his eyes to the ground and bowed his head in shame.

"I am sorry for my actions," he said sadly, "I fear I no longer have the control over that side of me as I used to. You have every right not to trust me, Raphael. Fear me, please, for I am as unpredictable as a wild beast." He looked down to Donatello again, this time sitting up on the couch, but with his eyes half open and his breathing shallow. "He should not be here in such a weakened state. I fear he will not be able to protect himself if I... lose control."

Donatello shook his head slowly and spoke even slower than that. "No, it was my idea to come here, Leatherhead. I'm not going anywhere."

"Have you been practicing the meditations I had taught you, Leatherhead?" said Master Splinter, settling himself in an armchair.

"I… I do try, and they seem to help, though not as before. That part of me… it appears to take hold before I even realize what has happened." He looked to the rat with pleading eyes. "Master Splinter, will you please help me? I fear my methods are simply retroactive and not proactive as they should be." He motioned to a black collar-like device around his neck. "As you can see, I have resorted to self-destructive behaviors in an attempt to regain control."

"What is that, Leatherhead?" asked Donatello, examining the device from where he sat on the couch.

"It is of my own invention. It senses endorphin levels and blood pressure, and once it registers beyond a certain limit, it produces a neural impulse that can incapacitate me enough to escape the aggressive state."

"Neural impulses? How strong does the charge have to be to incapacitate you?" asked Donatello, his eyes expressing bewildered sympathy.

"It is enough to kill an average human, or maim them for life, by any length."

Everyone in the room drew in their breath, making the croc look around in embarrassment. "Do not worry, my friends, the voltage is not enough to cause any serious long-term damage and the device is not sensitive to minor changes. It is simply a precautionary measure."

"Did it ever shock you?" Mikey asked, his childish curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yes, twice before," Leatherhead said softly as he shuffled to the other side of the couch, softly dragging his left leg behind him. He sat beside Donatello. "I have decreased the voltage since."

Three eyes drew down on him in bewildered stares, unable to peel their gazes away.

"We will find another way, Leatherhead. We will begin your lessons in the morning." The old rat then turned to his eldest son. "And it would be beneficial if you joined us, Raphael."

Raphael narrowed his eyes at Michelangelo who was trying his hardest to stifle a giggle. "Oh great, anger management," he brooded. But he knew exactly what his master was getting at. He knew a lot about becoming someone he didn't like, about losing control and harming the very people you want to protect, and harming yourself in the crossfire.

Splinter cleared his throat in distaste. Raphael snapped out of his self-pity and bowed apologetically to his master. "Yes, Master Splinter. In the morning"

"Sunrise," added Splinter.

Raphael groaned again. He had gotten used to sleeping until three in the afternoon ever since training had taken a back seat to everything else happening in their lives.

"Raphael?"

"Yes, Master."

The old rat then nodded contently and turned back to Leatherhead, who had an expression of new-found confusion.

"I must ask, now that these matters are settled, what has happened these three years. All logic had told me you had been killed by the EPA. You had disappeared just days before they captured me. When I escaped, April and Casey told me all that had happened with the Lair. Did Bishop ever have you captured? I pray that no harm has come to you as it has for me."

Mikey shook his head. "No they never found us because we were gone."

"We got taken to the future" Raphael added darkly.

"That is simply impossible… I have never known a civilization, terrestrial or otherwise, that has mastered the art of time-travel. Even the Utroms did not have the technology to transport physical materials without inflicting great harm."

"Well what that kid did was definitely not art," Raph snorted. "More like a curse," he said more quietly this time, drawn under his breath.

"Then let us say I believe you have traveled through time and space. I suppose that your... injuries were sustained there?"

Michelangelo nodded slowly, but Raphael caught the croc staring at his arm and sent him a venomous glare in return. He was starting to get really touchy about people staring at him all the time.

Catching the glare, Leatherhead turned his glance away to study Donatello's gruesome scars. Donatello was at least too preoccupied with blowing his nose to care. Once he was done, the turtle sat back and let out a dissatisfied moan and closed his eyes.

"Maybe we should tell ya the details later. It's gettin' kinda late an' Donny don't feel to good."

"I agree, Raphael," nodded the crocodile. "You all may take the bedrooms upstairs, for I do not use that portion of the house. I will sleep in my laboratory in the basement."

Michelangelo shuddered, remembering well the creepy basement when Raph and Leo had locked him in there with the lights off. He'd nearly peed his shell he was so scared. "You sure you wanna sleep down there?" he gasped nervously.

Leatherhead nodded. "It is simply because I cannot fit through the second floor hallway and I fear the floor cannot hold my weight. Please, make yourselves at home and take as much space as you desire."

"Thank you, Leatherhead," said Splinter as he got up from his recliner and limped slowly to the stairway. "I will see you at sunrise then."

"Yes, of course."

"Then goodnight, my friend."

"Goodnight, Master Splinter" the crocodile grinned softly as he turned to the darkened hallway were the basement stairs lead down to the cave-like underside of the old farmhouse.

When the two parted ways, Casey, April, and the turtles sat a while in the living room beside the dying fire.

"When do you think we should tell him?" asked Don, finally breaking the stifling silence.

"About our plans with Bishop?" Raph asked. "I think we should put it off for a while, at least until Splinter's got him more stable and you get over whatever bug ya caught."

Donatello frowned at his brother. "I'm fine, Raph," he chided.

"Tha snot runnin' down ya face says otherwise," he prodded, but Don only rolled his eyes. Soon, April disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues, handing it to Don.

"Thanks, April," he smiled, taking the box and blowing his nose again.

"Time for bed," Raph announced, holding his hand out for Don, who took it reluctantly and heaved himself up off the couch.

"I am a little tired," he admitted as he stumbled up the stairs after April and Casey, clutching his tissue box in one hand and the rickety old railing with the other.

Before parting ways in the hallway, Casey and April paused in the doorway. "Tell us if you need anything, ok Donny?" April said softly.

"Ok, thanks April," Donatello nodded as he and his brothers disappeared into their usual room and April and Casey took their own.

And for a while, everything was silent. That is, until deep below their feet, somewhere in the darkness, the crocodile awoke from his cold-sweat nightmare, his pupils drawn into shocking narrow slits, a feral growl escaping from his throat.


	28. Chapter 28: Anger Management

Chapter 28: Anger Management

Early in the morning, just before the sun's first grey fingers of morning stretched across the eastern sky, a noise woke Raphael from his uneasy sleep. Something was amiss. Trying to shake away the haze of drowsiness, he listened with confusion in the quiet. The alarm on his shell cell hadn't even gone off. He rolled over to his side and fumbled for the cell, knocking his sai off the nightstand.

"Shit," he cursed as the metal clattered onto the wooden floor. He flipped open the phone and tried to make his eyes focus on the time. 5: 56 in the morning. The sun didn't rise until at least 6:30 in the winter.

He moaned loudly and threw the phone across the room, making it slam into the opposite wall and clatter to the ground.

"G' morning sunshine," groaned Michelangelo from the other bed, his voice cracking with sleep as he turned to face his brother's form in the half-light. "You are a morning person, aren't you."

"Do you ever get tired of buggin' me in the mornin'?" he growled, pulling the covers over his head.

"No, 'cause it's the same every morning, Princess Raphael in his little mood ready to bite everyone's head off."

"Shove it, Mikey. I'm goin' back ta bed."

"Donny's throwing up in the bathroom."

Raphael flipped the covers off from over his face and sat up. "What?"

"The noise that woke you up, it's Donny puking in the bathroom."

"Ugh. That's nasty. Is he ok?"

"He's pretty sick, but he said he wanted to be left alone. I think he has more than just a cold."

Raphael listened for a moment to hear if his brother was still at it. Sure enough, he could hear him retching from down the hall, then the sound of vomit hitting toilet water.

"Oh man," Raph said, clutching his own stomach. "I hafta check on him."

"You sick too?" Mikey asked.

Raphael shook his head. "No, but listenin' to him is enough ta make me wanna puke."

"Just don't hurl in here," Mikey warned.

"I won't! I'll be back in a sec", he said, flinging back the covers and stumbling out the room, his head still swimming from only three hours worth of sleep.

It only took him a second to reach the bathroom door where he saw the light glowing from underneath. He tried the door handle and found it locked, so he used a different approach. Tapping softly on the door his whispered "Donny, ya ok in there?"

More retching and then the toilet flushing. After a few minutes, Donny answered him. "Go away," he said softly, his voice wavering like he was about to cry.

"Just wanted ta check on ya."

"Just… don't talk to me right now, ok?" he said slowly, then began retching into the toilet again.

Raph was about to try the door handle again when a noise from downstairs stopped him. He could hear Leatherhead's heavy footsteps underneath his feet, his low, thunderous growls, then a crash, the sound of braking glass. "Leatherhead?" he called down the hall, but no answer. "Donny, I'm gunna go downstairs and see what's going on. Mike's still in the room if ya need somebody."

Not waiting for his brother to answer, he left the door and walked softly down the hall into the darkened stairwell.

* * *

_It was night the day after the turtles had disappeared, and Leatherhead hadn't slept a wink. Lying still on the pull-out couch he used for a bed, he pondered about what he and his two human allies had found the day before._

_Inside the Lair, it was silent and empty. Usually, he would take the emptiness as a sign the turtles were on some mission or another. But the eeriness had sent chills down his spine, like the emptiness alone had a different quality. Casey had been the first to tell him something was amiss, appearing at his doorstep with a worried expression. He and Raphael were supposed to meet that morning to work on his new motorcycle, but he never showed. When he tried his phone, it rang and rang with no answer._

"_I went ta the Lair after a few hours. It's not like Raph ta just take off without tellin' me when we got plans, ya know. But nobody was there, not even Splinter."_

_With his own concern arising, he had let the humans lead him to the abandoned Lair where they found their weapons lying on the floor. Then, a wave of despair had settled in his bones when he saw the fateful heap. The katana are what struck him the most, still sheathed, yet abandoned on the living room floor. He caught his breath quickly and stared, never remembering a time when he had seen Leonardo without them. He cherished those swords. Seeing them lying there, abandoned like a piece of scrap, he knew something had to be terribly wrong. It was like seeing Leonardo's very soul strewn upon that floor._

_He had seen the news, the footage of the remaining savage outbreak mutations still lurking in New York City ally ways. He had seen Bishop address the people, reassuring them that all measures would be taken to 'exterminate these threats.'_

_And then he knew. When he saw the hunters roaming the streets, he knew. They had somehow managed to take them, to exterminate the entire Hamato clan in one fail swoop. Then, he despaired._

_Just one day later, they had invaded his home, shot tranquilizers to bury into his flesh, and dragged him to Bishop, where he was assured that he would still be able to do some good before he died. Bishop wanted to finish what he had started._

_The next four months had been hell on Earth, or worse than hell on Earth, for even hell would have been a welcome alternative. Every day a new procedure was performed, every day brought with it a new form of torture. There, strapped to that metal table, they tore the flesh from his muscle, they examined his bones, then, they would suture the gaping wounds and leave him there to bear his agony. After what had seemed like eons, Bishop had finally gathered the courage to dissect his abdominal cavity, to touch the precious living organs inside. The pain had been so immense, so unbearable, he was sure he would not survive._

_But survive he did. They stitched up the gaping wound and once again left him there to suffer. Then, they had no mercy for his anguished cries. Then, they never even flinched with sympathy for his pain, the pain of so many, the pain that they induced. In their eyes, he was nothing but a monster, a piece of equipment, an experiment to poke and to prod. They left him there for eight straight days strapped to the metal dissecting table in that cold and sterile room, the lethal blades that had tasted his flesh dangling overhead. He had felt like a pig in a slaughterhouse as the echoing cries of more victims surrounded him, the blood spattered walls of former victims now dead or worse. _

_As for his fate, he was sure they were waiting for him to die. Without drink or nourishment, without proper medical care, they waited for him to succumb to his injuries and perish._

_But he had never planned on giving up. He had escaped once before, and soon he would again._

_Eight days it took for him to lose himself, eight days it took for him to finally let it take over, to forget that he was a civilized creature and become the monster they believed him to be. Eight days and he finally felt himself snap, his mind cloud, his pupils constrict, his muscles tense, aching for blood. Then, he roared a feral sound that vibrated off the tile walls as the beast within resurfaced. He broke the leather straps and his mind went blank._

_Even now, memory would not allow him to remember those minutes of sheer carnage, of blood and broken bones, tasting human blood mingled with his own as his fangs ripped through flesh, crushed bone, broke bodies, killed so many. When he had come to and his breath and heartbeat lost their feverish rhythm, he knew what he had done. The blood that pooled around his ankles, the taste of flesh on his tongue, the bodies littered like twisted scraps of meat upon the floor, their faces and throats torn away. And he howled in fear and remorse, he slammed through the metal door and rampaged through the halls of agents, all trying to seize him, to disable him, to hold back the monster. But despite his injuries he was still too strong. He killed all who stood in his way._

Still halfway in his nightmare world, Leatherhead jolted awake in the midst of a dream that would not die. His yellow eyes scanned what his brain told him was the laboratory, but the instinct told him he was there, in the dissection room, waiting for his kill to arrive.

There he would kill with his fangs, biting into throats, ripping out the larynx and savoring the taste. The blood he wore like a veil blotting out all logic, everything that told him no. The strength was too invigorating, the images were too real. His adrenaline screamed for him to fight or die.

Crouching in the shadows, he heard a noise from upstairs and froze, preparing himself for another taste of blood running hot down the back of his throat.

* * *

Raphael stood at the top of the pitch- black stairwell, the gaping blackness like an enormous, yawning mouth, as if the darkness wanted to swallow him whole.

"Leatherhead? You asleep down there?" he whispered. If he was wrong and his ears were just deceiving him, Raph planned on pretending to just be waking the croc to start sunrise meditation. When no answer came, he walked silently down the old wooden stairs, each creaking ominously underfoot.

"Psst, hey, you awake or what? I heard a noise and…" Squinting in the dark, he tried his best to survey the room. He made out the edges of the sleeper couch and found it empty. He definitely wasn't asleep. Then, he looked at the floor and found the source of the crash he had heard before. A metal shelf full of what was once a row of glass beakers and equipment had overturned onto the concrete floor, shattering its contents, and sending glittering fragments all over the laboratory.

Careful not to step on the broken glass, Raph stepped down from the last wooden step and onto the cold concrete floor. "Leatherhead? Is everythin' ok down here?"

Again, no answer. But then another sound caught his attention, an empty metal can was rolling toward him from his left, its hollow metallic scraping sounds breaking the absolute silence. There, he watched it slowly roll, coming to a stop at his feet and teetering softly back and fourth on the concrete. When it stood still, Raphael slowly raised his eyes to the darkened corner to see a black, hulking shadow crouched behind the pitch obscurity, two yellow eyes glowing pupil slits like twin gems in the darkness. He swallowed hard.

_This is bad, really, really bad._

The giant croc lurched smoothly from the shadows, emerging in the silver half-light that poured in from a single cellar window. He growled, low and deep as he stalked his prey. Raphael took a step back and found himself with his shell up against the wall, panic ringing through every blood vessel, a blast of coursing adrenaline giving him the strength and speed to dodge Leatherhead's merciless attack. He ducked and rolled sideways a distance away, taking no time to notice the crack in the concrete where his head had once been.

"Leatherhead!" he yelled, trying to penetrate the fire that had taken hold of him. "You gotta snap outta this, man."

But the croc only growled and lunged again. This time, Raph wasn't so lucky. Pinning him down to the ground, broken glass piercing his flesh, the rage in the croc's eyes burned deep and unquenchable as his hot breath scorched his face. Those eyes, those cold, furious eyes were burning a hole straight through him, just inches away from those bright, deadly fangs.

"Snap out of it!" Raphael roared in his face as he struggled to free himself. But months of no training had left him weak and helpless against the hulking beast. If he let Leatherhead hurt him, the croc would never live it down. It would break his heart. If he killed him, it would be a completely different matter.

The croc blinked a few times in surprise and Raphael used the moment to deliver a striking kick to his stomach that made the beast falter, stumbling back just enough to let Raph slip out from under his grasp and back onto his feet again. "I know it ain't you doin' this," he said as they circled, the croc's narrow eyes calculating its next attack. "You need ta get control of yourself."

Again, the crocodile lunged, missing only by inches, causing him to careen into the metal desk behind him, denting it deeply. Raphael swallowed hard when he envisioned that dent crushing into his skull. "Listen, man, I know exactly what your goin' through. I know what it's like ta lose control. Ya just need ta get a grip, 'cause I know this ain't you. You don't wanna hurt me. I can see it in your eyes."

For a moment, the crocodile paused and breathed deeply. Raphael found himself relaxing when he suspected the worst was finally over. But before he could react, the beast- Leatherhead, was on top of him again, his savage fangs dripping strings saliva as they hungered to tear his flesh.

"Snap out of it!" Raphael roared again, but this time the croc remained unfazed.

His jaws drew nearer to his throat, ready to answer the beckoning call of the pulsing blood that sang through his prey's arteries.

"Please," Raphael said weakly as he struggled to no avail. "snap out of it!" Then, the rare sound of panicked helplessness tainting his voice seemed to finally be getting through. The croc slackened his grip and made to turn away. But then he could resist no longer. In one final death-lunge, he sprang for the throat, jaws open wide, exposing rows of white razor blade fangs.

Raphael screamed as he watched the jaws close down on him, shutting his eyes tightly, preparing himself for the pain that would soon follow.

But the fangs never met flesh, blood left undrawn. Instead the croc tensed and arched his back in a grotesque way as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He seemed to convulse and his grip slackened from the pain.

Staring wide-eyed from beneath the twisting beast, a heap of twitching muscle, he remembered. _Neural impulses. _Raphael could not forget the conversation just hours before. He shut his eyes and hoped the voltage would stop before it killed him.

_"Enough to kill and average human, or maim him for life, by any length."_

The thought made him cringe and shudder as he watched his friend give in to the impulses and fall limply on top of him. Raphael groaned as the wind was robbed from his lungs under the croc's massive weight. He heaved the limp form off of him and rolled him onto the floor. For a moment, he began to panic when he saw the crock wasn't breathing.

"Leatherhead! Hey! Wake up!" he said, shaking the still form, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake. But to his relief, the croc stirred and groaned softly as his hand shot up to the collar-like device around his neck.

"You ok?" he asked, afraid to look into the crocodile's eyes for fear the rage still lingered there.

Leatherhead sat up and looked around in the pitch-black darkness as his bleary eyes adjusted and focused on the form that sat beside him. "Raphael? How did you…What has happened?" he looked around his laboratory and witnessed the damage that had been done. He instantly knew. His eyes wide with fear, he turned to his friend. "Raphael! What have I done!" he howled, almost able to envision a fatal injury or wound the darkness could conceal.

"It's ok, LH. I'm fine."

With a sigh of relief, he rubbed his temples and tried to register what had just happened. "I've lost control again," he said shamefully.

"Yeah, you did. When I came down here you were already… like that." Through the darkness, he could see the distraught look that graced the crocodile's face. "Hey, man, but I'm good. Ya didn't hurt me or nothin', if that's what you're worried about. It ain't your fault _Bishop _did this to you. That bastard's gunna pay for all he's done."

"Ah, but it is my fault, Raphael. I have completely lost control of that side of me. If it was not for this device, I would have surely killed you."

Raphael feigned an arrogant chuckle. "I ain't that easy ta bring down," he said, wishing it were true.

Leatherhead's remorseful expression did not change. Instead he sat, shoulders slumped, one massive hand clutching the black device.

Seeing that he was fooling no one, Raphael looked down to the concrete floor and made his confession. As much as he hated to let down his tough-guy facade, he knew the croc deserved to know the reason why he understood so well.

"Leatherhead… I…I know what it's like, ok?"

Leatherhead's eyes widened inquisitively. Raphael drew his eyes quickly back to the floor and sighed, trying to get the worst of it over as quickly as possible. "I know what it's like ta lose control, ta be… a monster."

"You are no monster, Raphael," Leatherhead interjected.

"But I was. when I lost my arm… when I lost Leo… I kinda went someplace I didn't wanna go." He gestured to his temple and continued. "I… got so wrapped up in feelin' sorry for myself, got so angry about what I didn't do, what I shoulda done, I let it take over. I did a lot a stupid stuff because of it, stuff I couldn't control."

For a moment, Raph paused, trying to decide if he really wanted to take the conversation to the next level.

_He won't believe me till I tell him. He won't see it till he knows._

"When… when I was… like that," he stuttered, unsure how he was going to continue. "I… hurt a lot a people, and they were scared a me. They thought I was a monster… even my little brother… I hurt him too. For a while, he hated me for it, so did Don, cause after bein' like that for so long, ya get tired of it, ya feel like you lost all control, ya feel like there's nowhere ta run… that's when I did this."

Tilting his head back, Raphael showed the croc the angry scar that blazed across his throat.

Leatherhead studied the mark and gasped, but quickly turned his eyes away. "Oh… I see."

"Pretty bad, huh?" Raphael said with remorse, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I understand, my friend. I do know of what you speak."

Raphael shook his head. "But it ain't easy like that. When I tried it, it was still there… the same stuff I felt before. Even… that… can't take ya away from it. That's when I knew things had ta change. That's when I knew I was still here for a reason, and runnin' wasn't gunna make it any better. It was hard, but because I knew that, I knew I had no choice but ta control it."

"But my case is different, Raphael. The rage… it is a part of me, a part of my instincts."

"An ya don't think rage is part a mine? How long have we known each other. I mean, I know were not exactly buds, but it don't take no rocket scientist to see I gotta screw loose. It's a part a me too, man."

"Though, the circumstances… I do not know if I am capable…"

"Stop. Just stop," Raphael interrupted, "ya gotta know that the part a you that makes ya angry isn't you. I know you see that. Just stop tellin' yourself you can't and start thinkin' that it ain't impossible. If I can do it on my own, just think what's gunna happen with you when Master Splinter helps ya. You're smart, man. You an' Don together can do anything. That's your reason ta control it, cause if ya don't, it'd be a waste of that big brain a yours. So that's the reason ya got no choice, cause if you lose it, my brother's out one friend and the world's out one genius. So ya better snap outta it quick, got it?"

Leatherhead nodded and smiled. He knew that whatever Raphael lacked in thought, he gained in heart. His fiery passion and stubborn persistence was enough to make even an old, battle-worn croc believe in the impossible. "Thank you, my friend."

"Ah, it was nothin'" said the turtle, stretching his tired muscles and heading up the old wooden stairs. "I'm gunna hit the hay before Splinter sees I'm awake. Sun's gunna be up soon, but damn I'm tired."

Leatherhead chuckled to himself and watched the turtle disappear, leaving him alone in the grey light of morning.

Turning to see the dull light filtering in from the single window, he sighed deeply at the sky's first torment. Ablaze with kindred twisting fire, bathed in the blood of angels, the dancing color bore like a heavy weight down upon him. He gazed into the red sky morning and prayed it wasn't an omen.


	29. Chapter 29: A Plan

Chapter 29: A Plan

On the couch, Raphael stretched his sleep-deprived muscles and forbade his eyes from closing.

"I can't believe he still made me do that stupid meditation thing after all a that" he groaned.

"Ah, but does your soul feel more tranquil now?" Mikey teased, using his best impression of Master Splinter.

Raphael stopped stretching and glared at his little brother. "I'll show ya tranquil" he growled, punching him uncouthly in the arm.

"Master Splinter! Raphael's anger management isn't working!" he pouted, rubbing the sore spot.

"Shove it ass wipe" he yelled, pulling back for another attack.

"Raphael! Enough!" came Splinter's scolding from the kitchen.

Without a word of apology, Raphael gave up mid-attack and sulked on the other side of the couch.

"I found the session extremely helpful" Leatherhead added from the other side of the living room, his voice way too chipper and eager for that early in the morning. It was really starting to get on Raph's nerves.

"Good for you" Raphael muttered under his breath with biting sarcasm.

"What was that, Raphie?" Mikey poked again, knowing that Master Splinter would keep his brother from retaliating.

"Shut up" he grumbled "before I shut you up."

Michelangelo just laughed evilly at the torture. Raph _was_ really easy to agitate in the morning.

But Raphael didn't respond. After a moment of silence, Mikey stopped laughing and looked at his brother, his eyes half closed, his head nodding as he fought back the urge to sleep. For his own amusement, he jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, causing him to quickly jolt awake.

"Ah, what? Damn it Mikey!" he glared, ready to spring another attack. He stopped before he could lay down a punch when Casey, April, and Splinter walked into the room after cleaning the breakfast dishes.

"Chicken" Mikey whispered under his breath.

"Go fuck yourself" Raphael retorted through his teeth as he threw a fake smile at the incoming crowd. Next to him, Mikey just pouted.

"I would like to apologize again for this morning, Raphael" said Leatherhead for probably the billionth time that morning.

Now the croc was really getting on his nerves. Raph new already he was going to have one hell of a bad day.

"It's ok! I'm fine. You hafta stop apologizin'!" said Raphael, brushing him off with a roll of his eyes.

But the croc seemed to be unable to detect the negative energy or the tone of sarcasm that Raph sent his way. Still, he continued, a hollow worry in his eyes that spoke of a distant, yet very real fear. "But if you were not fine, if I had inflicted some sort of injury, it would have been a completely different matter."

"Yeah, but you didn't, so stop sayin' that" Raphael insisted, trying not to sound rude so his sensei wouldn't nag him for it.

"What I believe my son is saying" Master Splinter interjected "is that one must not dwell on what could have come to pass, only what has come to pass. Our actions result in one outcome, and dwelling on the other possibilities helps no one."

"I understand" said Leatherhead curtly, pausing for a moment before drawing a quick breath, insisting to dwell on his argument. "Yet I cannot stop myself from thinking that if I did not have the device, Raphael would not be sitting here before me, alive and well."

"Yeah, but it didn't happen" Raphael retorted, the agitation starting to reveal its true colors in his voice.

"I know your fears, Leatherhead" Splinter added, trying to avoid a conflict "But our meditations will aid you in controlling these outbursts. You do not have to fear for what may be, only what is now."

The croc nodded at the cryptic message that left everyone else in the room scratching their heads. That is, except for Michelangelo who thought it best to not even try to understand.

"Hey Leatherhead?"

The croc's attention peaked as he turned his head to the turtle's inquisitive gaze "Yes, Raphael?"

"Have you ever thought of… ya know… gettin' back at Bishop… if ya the chance?"

Michelangelo looked at his big brother with concern. "I thought we were going to wait to tell him… I mean, Don isn't even up yet and he said we had to wait."

"I see a window an' I'm gunna take it. Gotta problem with that?" he growled, turning a glare at his little brother that was venomous enough to make him squirm.

Michelangelo shook his head, but the look on his face said that he was thinking otherwise.

"What is this about, my friends?" Leatherhead asked, obviously confused.

"Well… me an' my brothers were plannin' on deliverin' Bishop a little message, and maybe gettin' ourselves a little revenge in the meantime" Raphael grinned, already imagining the satisfying feeling of flesh, Bishop's flesh, meeting his knuckles.

Leatherhead looked skeptical. "I am not sure what you are planning, Raphael, and I am especially concerned for the success of those plans."

But Raphael never lost his determined grin. "Well that's the problem, see, we don't got nobody on the inside to tell us how to get in. If we gotta do what we gotta do, then we need someone who's been inside to tell us how ta get in and outta there."

Leatherhead looked disquieted as he mused. "Hmm. This does concern me" he pondered, envisioning every flaw, every potential tragedy that could result. "I am not sure what you expect me to tell you. When I was taken within Bishop's headquarters, it was not of my own free will. I do not know how to infiltrate without our presence being known."

And that got Raph thinking. Grinning deviously, he formulated his plan.

"And what is this message you plan to deliver?" Leatherhead continued, trying to clear his head of the millions of questions that floated in his brain. "Why is it of the utmost importance that you risk your lives to deliver it?"

"We have to warn him" answered Michelangelo with a distant look in his eyes. "We have to tell him about some things that might help change the future. There's something that Bishop has to make sure he takes care of so all this never happens."

"What is that exactly?" Leatherhead pried, tilting his head ever so slightly. "If you expect for me to aid you in this, I must know the details of what you speak because frankly, I am confused."

"The War" Michelangelo responded cryptically "we have to stop the War."

Leatherhead's eyes widened in disbelief. He knew that whatever the turtles had experienced in the past three years was brutal at best. Their scars and injuries told the story well. But even if they had indeed gone one hundred years into the future, the fact that they had been thrown into a war was beyond belief.

"War? You… fought a war, my friends?"

Michelangelo nodded as Raphael answered. "Yeah, a war… lasted only a few months 'cause Leo an' me killed the guy in charge of killin' a bunch a people, destroyin' planets and all a that."

"It was the Shredder" Michelangelo finally erupted, barely able to control the words that burst from his mouth. He couldn't stand all that cryptic crap anymore. Leatherhead gasped and Raphael glared at him, making him grin nervously and shrug at his slip of the tongue.

"What? We told April!"

"You told April dumb ass! Don said we weren't supposed ta screw with the time/space thing, remember?"

"I remember, but… he was after the Utroms!"

"Mikey!" Raphael roared as he reached over and slapped his brother upside the head. "When are you gunna learn to shut ya trap?" But the bewildered look in Leatherhead's eyes said that the worst of the damage had already been done.

"That wicked creature! What would he have done to the Utroms?" he boomed, images of genocide rampaging through his mind. His eyes narrowed at the thought. "He wanted his revenge" he spat at his sudden, dark realization. "He wanted his revenge for a punishment he well deserved!"

Raphael's heart beat a little faster in his chest when he saw the rage building up behind the crocodile's eyes. "Whoa, man, you gotta calm down. Remember all that anger management crap."

The croc's tight fists slackened a little as he exhaled and nodded slowly. "Yes, you are right, Raphael, allowing myself to give into my hatred for that… monster will not help a soul. Yet, I do believe I can aid your cause. Whatever you desire, I am ready to act. I will join you on this mission and ensure that these evils will never come to pass."

Raphael smiled "good, cause the way I'm thinkin' we'll get in, we're gunna need a diversion."

"A… diversion?" Leatherhead stuttered before shaking his head and staring determinedly at the turtle. "Whatever you wish, my friend. I will be there."

"Great" Raphael grinned. His plan was foolproof. There was no way they could fail.

Before anyone could make him explain, the sound of someone stumbling down the stairs caught everyone's attention.

Donatello, walking down the stairs like the living dead, took one stair at a time until he made his way to the bottom. Clutching the blanket closer around him with one hand and a tissue box in the other, he shuffled slowly over to the living room.

"Hey! Donny! How ya feelin' bud?"

"Great, just great" he snapped at Raphael, his unmasked eyes drawn into a venomous glare.

"Oooh Donny's sick! He's always mean when he's sick" Mikey teased in a sing-song voice.

"Well if you had my headache, you wouldn't be exactly pleasant either" he snapped again, plopping down on the couch where Raphael had made room for him. There, he curled up in a ball under his blanket and sulked for a while, closing his eyes against the living room light's torturous assault until he noticed the strange quiet that surrounded the room. He peaked around at his friends' solemn faces and sighed in disgust.

"You told them, didn't you" he spat at his two brothers, still managing to strike fear in them despite his stuffy nose. "They know everything, don't they?"

Michelangelo nodded, hoping Donny was too sick to kick his butt while he was in his bad mood.

"How much do they know?" he sighed. He could practically feel the time/space continuum shattering around him.

"A lot…" Michelangelo trailed, trying to look innocent.

"Mikey spilled the beans" Raphael accused, trying to duck past the blame.

"Damn it, Mikey! I thought we talked about this!"

"S-Sorry Donny, I…"

"He just got emotional, ok. You know how much he wants to stop the whole Shredder thing. And we got Leatherhead ta join up. I think I got a plan on how we're gunna get in…"

"Ok, whatever. Just stop talking" Donatello snapped with his eyes closed before Raphael could finish. "You're so irritating. Don't you remember that isn't the reason why we're doing this? We're supposed to stop Bishop from hunting us, from hurting innocent people."

"Oh yeah…" Michelangelo trailed again, as if caught up in an endless state of reverie.

"You're so delusional" Donatello spat accusingly "when are you going to stop thinking that Leo's going to raise from the dead just because you warned Bishop? Who's to say he'll even listen to you? This isn't a comic book, Mikey!"

Michelangelo looked to be on the verge of tears as his eyes lost their distant gaze and turned pleadingly to his brother, but Donatello's bad mood told him that he deserved it for his lack of common sense. Sighing deeply, he rolled his eyes at his little brother's pitiful attempts to make him feel guilty.

"Oh, come on Don. Just cause you're sick doesn't mean ya gotta take it out on Mikey!"

Donatello shrugged his shoulders and blew his nose into a tissue, throwing it onto the ever growing pile at his feet. Then he looked around without a shred of sympathy and closed his eyes, wishing his headache, and Michelangelo, and Raphael, and everyone else in the world would just leave him alone.

"Don… do you want an aspirin or something?" asked April, her voice catching an air of sympathy upon seeing Donatello's pain.

Don opened his eyes a crack, barely lifting his head, and tried to make his voice sound at least a little healthy. "April, I am so drugged up right now I can barely move. I took like, five different things just to get down here and see what disaster my brothers were cooking up."

"Maybe you should go back to bed" she pleaded, but Don only shook his head.

"Yeah, Don, you look like hell" Casey added.

"Gee, thanks" Donatello retorted, closing his eyes tightly before sneezing into yet another tissue.

"I got it under control" Raphael growled "I can handle this on my own."

That made Donatello laugh heartlessly until a fit of coughing gripped him. "That's what I'm afraid of" he said, smiling weakly with his head resting on the back of the couch.

"Donatello, if it makes you feel any better, I have agreed to aid your brothers whole-heartedly on their mission" Leatherhead added.

"Of course you are" Donatello glared "and what mission might that be? The whole 'get revenge on Bishop and save the world from Shredder' crusade isn't even close to what I had in mind. I wanted to plant a virus into Bishop's mainframe so I can shut his monster-hunting goons down for a while. We were supposed to be getting payback for the Lair so we could live in peace!"

"You could still do that Don! We're gunna leave for the city an' you can plant your virus thingy from April's apartment" Raphael retorted.

But Donatello only shook his head and frowned. "No… I can't. Someone has to deliver the virus from the inside, and I can't. I'm too…"

"Too what?" Raphael pried, but Donatello only closed his eyes and shook his head again.

"Never mind! I don't want to help your stupid mission. It's completely bogus anyway. Just forget it!"

"Don… that's not what I meant… Don… just stay here an' we'll talk about it."

But Donatello was already halfway across the living room, making his slow attempt to storm back upstairs and sulk.

"Raphael, you're a selfish bastard!" he seethed "I'm sick as a dog and all you want me to do is go on some stupid mission with you!"

Now Raph was mad. He stood up with his fists clenched and glared his brother some venom of his own. "Fine! Then don't help us. I was gunna wait till you got better, but whatever Don. If you're gunna be that way, fine, have it your way."

"Fine! Then I will! I'm not going back to the city, so just leave me here and have fun on your suicide mission!"

"Go back upstairs before I punch ya face in!" Raphael roared, gesturing rudely to the stairs.

"Go to hell!" Donatello fumed, trudging slowly up the stairs, wishing he could make his way quicker, if only for the dramatic effect. When he disappeared, Raphael turned on his heels and stormed out the front door, slamming it unceremoniously behind him.

"Geez… what's their problem?" asked Casey.

Michelangelo shrugged. "That's Don when he's sick. He hates being babied and he hates being left out. I guess he's mad at Raph for talking to you guys without him. He really has a thing with that time/space doohickey."

"I think something else is going on" April said thoughtfully. "I think I'll go talk to him for a while, ok guys?"

Everyone in the room nodded, grateful they weren't the ones who had to talk to Don when in his present not-exactly-pleasant state.

* * *

April tapped softly on the wooden door, but when no answer came, she opened it a crack and peeked in.

"Donny?"

Again, no answer. Swinging the door wider, she saw the room was empty. It only took her a second to realize Don was in the bathroom again, probably still trying to hold back the urge to lose his lunch. So she sat on a bed and waited in the cool darkness of the room where the winter light filtering in from the drawn down shades made it comfortable and cool.

When Donatello stumbled in, she got to her feet and pretended he hadn't caught her daydreaming.

"Don?" she said soothingly, holding on to the turtle's shoulders to steady him as he sloughed off into bed and pulled the covers over himself.

"What happened down there?"

But Don only turned to his side and pulled the covers closer, giving her a only soft shrug.

"The Donatello I know would always want to help his brothers, no matter how farfetched their plans are. This isn't just about being sick, is it?"

For a while, Don didn't answer as he formulated it in his mind. _Do I really want to tell her? _

But when he felt her soft touch on her shoulder, he felt like he could melt away. Slowly, he shook his head, trying hard to hide the tears that stung his eyes.

"Oh Don, what's going on. You know you can tell me" April said softly, her face drawing closer to his.

"I…"

But before he could answer, the door flew open with a bang and Raphael huffed in, lingering in the doorway for a moment before storming inside, a little embarrassed for causing an awkward moment. The way April jumped away from Don as if he had burned her made him turn his eyes away to the floor.

"I… just came ta get these" he said, gesturing to Leonardo's katana leaning against the nightstand. As he walked over and snatched them up, strapping them to his back, he straightened and glared at his little brother.

"We're goin' now. You Change your mind about not comin' with us?"

Donatello opened his eyes and pretended he didn't care. He shook his head and stared back emotionlessly. "No" he said stiffly, trying not to let his inner self betray his true feelings. He was far to proud to ever show that openly.

"Fine then, have a nice life" Raphael growled sarcastically over his shoulder as he stormed back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The sound made both of them flinch and Donatello winced a little.

"I didn't know they were leaving now."

"Neither did I " April said with a faraway look.

"Are you going to leave me too?"

April's eyes grew wide as she saw the helplessness in Donny's own eyes. He seemed so young, so feeble. She wrapped her arms around him and cradled him like an infant, feeling the warmth of his silent tears soaking through her T-shirt. "Of course not" she whispered into his ear "never."

And Donatello returned the embrace, fighting back the memories of crushing, because this is something that he needed, like a gasp of fresh air after holding a breath. He needed her so badly he felt like he would die.

"April… it's not like I don't want to help them, because I do. They just… wouldn't understand. I don't think I'm ever going to leave this place. I don't think I'm going to be able to help them ever again. I can't… I'm too…" Then he paused, choking back his tears as April quicly brushed them away with her fingertips.

"Too what, Donatello? What is it?"

"Weak" he whispered. "I'm too weak."

Feeling her own tears springing into her eyes, she held her friend tighter, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Oh, Don" she whispered "you are the strongest person I know."

But Don slowly shook his head, barely able to form the words that pained him so much to say. "No… not anymore."

And slowly, April pried herself away, staring deep into her friend's hurting eyes. "You know that's not true" she said "you still are the strongest person I know."

"But… I can barely even walk on my own… I keep getting sick and… It hurts, it always hurts" he gasped, feeling the dull pain of the tender muscles under his shell and plastron that ached more than ever, reminding him of the weakness that gripped him. His torture, his curse.

Then, April slid off the bed, smiling kindly in the half-light. Her simple beauty making him forget it all because for that one moment, she was his.

"Who said anything about that?" she asked, smiling softly and turning for the door. She rested her hand on the door handle and lingered there, just a moment, to look back to her friend's pain-filled eyes. "I'm going to talk to Raph and Casey before they leave. Try to get some rest, ok?"

Smiling, Donatello nodded and closed his eyes, listening to the door clicking softly behind her.

"Thanks" he said weakly as he slowly lost himself to sleep, slipping away into sweet, impossible dreams of her.

* * *

"Are we goin' or are we gunna just stand around like a buncha idiots?" Raphael barked impatiently, his breath showing in the cool winter air as he watched Leatherhead load what he believed to be an unnecessary amount of equipment into Casey's van. "When you're through with that there won't be any room for us."

"I assure you, Raphael, it is all absolutely necessary" Leatherhead promised, hefting a particularly heavy bag of obscure equipment into the remaining trunk space and slamming the hatch down behind it.

"We ready now?" Raphael groaned, barely able to stand still for a moment longer. His muscles tensed as he shifted from one foot to another, the cold biting at his skin, and the itch for a fight coursing through his veins. He needed to get to Bishop as quick as he could and unload some major steam before he really exploded. Just imagining the four hour drive back to the city was killing him.

"Where's Don an' April?" Casey asked, searching around for any sign of them.

"Don ain't comin'. Says he'd rather stay here than help us."

"I am sure there is more to the story, Raphael" Splinter interjected.

"Not really" Raphael growled, hating himself for being so mad at his little brother. But his anger told him he deserved it.

"Then where's April? April!" he hollowed through cupped hands back to the house, his breath hitting the air in white, misty clouds.

"Shut up ya goon!" Raphael yelled back, but when April came trudging through the snow from the front door, they both stopped.

"Right here" she gasped frantically, trying to catch her breath.

"You comin' or what?" Casey asked, pretending they had been waiting for her for ages.

April shook her head. "No, I'm going to stay here with Don. I think that if we program the virus from here, we can send it to Leatherhead and he can put it through the system."

"It is probable" Leatherhead agreed.

"Great" April smiled, handing the giant croc a black square bag. "Take my laptop with you then. We can send it through to you that way and you can use the network cable to plug it into any available computer connected to the mainframe inside Bishop's headquarters."

"Yes" Leatherhead nodded "I will try my best, April, thank you."

"You sure you're not comin' Ape?" Raphael pried.

"Yes, I'm sure. Donny needs me here and I can help you guys just as much from Leatherhead's computer then I can back in the city."

"Ok, suit yourself" said Raph over his shoulder as he swung into the passenger's seat.

After much struggling to get Leatherhead to fit in the back seat, everyone was settled in for a very uncomfortable ride.

"Babe?" Casey called, leaning out the driver's side window. April skipped over to her husband and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

"You take care of yourself Casey Jones. Don't go getting yourself killed!" she said, peering in through Casey's window, she addressed the rest of the crowd "That goes for all of you, ok!"

"Don't worry 'bout it, April!" Raphael said from the passenger's seat. "As long as truckin' Leatherhead around doesn't make tha van break down… then I just might hafta kill somebody."

Everyone chuckled a little despite the nervous tension that filled the air. Where they were going, what they were about to do was dangerous, even deadly, and all the joking around in the world couldn't chase away the dark cloud that hung over all of their heads.

Casey started up the engine and smiled at April standing there in the snow. "Love ya babe!" he called before rolling up the window.

April smiled and waved, mouthing the words in exchange as she watched Casey's van struggle through the snow-covered driveway, turning down the country road, and disappearing through the trees.

And there she stood, alone in the knee-deep snow, listening to the far-off rumble of Casey's overtaxed engine until the sound faded into the cold winter air.

And it killed her inside to know that now, all she could do was wait.


	30. Chapter 30: The Walls We Build

Chapter 30: Walls

The four hour drive to the city was gripped by a long, choking silence that lay heavy with anxious disparity. An ominous quiet that filled the van, deep and penetrating like the last inhale before the plunge, before the surface was broken and the world was changed forever more.

But in their minds, nothing was quiet for long. Instead there was a storm, violent and raging, calling for blood, revenge, a flicker of hope. But whatever drew them to those city lights, whatever made them come to that wretched place and meet their darkest foe, it did not matter, for now was the beginning of something real, something life-changing, something that could shatter each and every one of their insignificant existences or free them from the crushing weight of those impending shadows.

When the sky was lost from that thick, velvety blackness crowned with blinding silver stars to the putrid orange haze of city lights, they felt their fates drawing nearer, each hoping for a mark, a brand, a sign to tell them anything of their destiny, the secrets held in those hidden gazes of stars.

Raphael looked out the window as he watched it pass him by, flicker in and out of existence for only a moment and then return. All the pain and all the sorrow that had gripped him amongst these restless city lights flooded like a raging sea. Everything that happened, everything yet to pass, everything that is and will be haunted him like the lives of one million ghosts.

And then he let himself remember, the things that he had allowed to burrow their way out of his mind.

_Leo. _

_I'm keeping your promise._

_Leo. My brother._

_I promise I'll never fail you again._

And the grief, the misery, the longing for his bother, the sound of his voice, the ferocity of his pride, his unwavering sense of honor sang its way through his bloodstream, penetrating him with a deepening understanding that this is how things must be. That now, all he had was memory. And now, he would live up to his memories, live up to the swords now strapped upon his back, cling to them like the very fabric of his being. That day he had made a promise, and stumble as he may, he was going to keep it.

_I won't let this fall apart._

_Never, ever again._

He was clinging to the pieces, fingering their sharp edges as he found the place they fit, gluing them back together, never quite sealing all the scars left behind.

They would always be broken. They would always be ready to fall apart again at the lightest striking breeze, but he vowed that night to forever hold them together, to be their glue, their support and their savior when they needed a shoulder to lean on.

He had really fucked up for such a long time, but now, he could see the bright horizon. He just needed to get past this one last obstacle, this last shadow in his path, so dark and consuming it blotted out the light.

It all came down to tonight. That was his foolproof plan. Tonight, he was going to prove the sunshine. Tonight, he was going to set free the light.

No more shadow.

Set them free.

But Bishop… that _fucking bastard_, he made it so hard to see it clearly, to let his eyes adjust from the impending darkness. He stood like an iron wall, guarding them from life, from any form of truly living. He robbed them of their home, their only hope. He had hurt, shattered, broken every remaining piece, every glittering fragment and ground it into dust.

How was he going to repair it, that which has been ground so finely until the bones, the flesh, the blood are nothing but dust on the wind? How could he glue it back after all that damage, all that pain?

Tonight, he was proving to himself that it could be done because life was no longer composed of smoke and mirrors, but of fragile mortality. He longer felt invincible. He was no longer immune to death, to mortal injury, left to choose his own fate, his own path in the obscurity of darkness that had once seemed to be under his control. But now, it scared him at how little control he actually had. When the delusion melted away, all he had left was this.

This was it. Tonight, this was it.

"So are ya gunna tell us about this genius plan of yours or are ya jus' gunna stare out the freakin' window all night?"

Casey's voice was gruff and demanding, edging close on irritation, and he could feel the rest of the crowd closing in on him with listening ears. The sudden break in his train of thought made him wince from the snap before he tried to make out their shapes in the darkness. He knew the look on their faces would tell him a mixture of excitement, interest, and worry. But deeper than all of those, and even deeper still, lay the one thing that their faces would not show, but their heart was steeped in regardless. Woe.

He shook his head free of it, building up the walls again, that tough exterior he surrounded himself in to let them believe he did not think. He didn't need to think. His sai did all his thinking for him.

"What is it with you and windows?" Mikey pried, his voice teasing, but still half-filled with the traces of venom.

"Nah, it's nothin'" Raphael grunted with a wave of a hand "I was just spacin.'"

"Well stop spacing and tell us what the heck is going on!" Mikey demanded, agitation slowly settling in his bones.

He had kept them waiting way too long. With a long, drawn out breath he formulated the plan that had been stewing in his brain, thickening over time. He knew it was brash, not artful or ingenious like anything Leo could cook up, but it would get the job done. No harm, no foul. That is… unless something went wrong…

"Ok, ok, stop your bitchin', I'll tell ya" he grunted. This was just the first part of the battle, and somehow, it seemed like it was going to be the hardest. Though he did think deeply, he never could figure out how to make his thoughts turn into the right words.

"Master Splinter an' Casey're gunna stay behind with the van for backup. They'll be our get-outta-jail-free card once we need ta split. Mikey, me, an' Leatherhead are gunna get ourselves in and do Don's virus thingy, then we're gunna have a little chat with Bishop in the meantime. Got it?"

From the back seat, Leatherhead pondered. "That is vague at best, my friend. How do you expect to infiltrate the compound unnoticed? The surveillance is quite advanced and there will most definitely be agents waiting at every outpost. You surely do not believe we will be able to enter entirely unseen. It is impossible."

At that, Raphael turned and grinned a devious grin. "That's were you come in, croc boy."

For a moment, Leatherhead looked offended, but that feeling slowly passed into bewilderment. He soon found himself rendered almost speechless. "Surely I…"

"Yeah, you. While me an' Mikey are gettin' in through the 'back entrance,' you're gunna call off Bishop's goons."

"A diversion" the crocodile gasped.

Raphael nodded. "A diversion."

"Then how will you deliver the virus? And what if I am captured?"

"We'll figure somethin' out" was Raphael's only unsatisfying answer. By now, he had everyone in the van seriously questioning his leadership skills. "You broke out before, you can do it again" Raph added again in his most reassuring voice, but no one seemed to unwind at the notion. "And, if we got some kind of communicators or somethin', Mikey an' me can take April's laptop an' you can guide us through it."

The crocodile shook his head. "This is indeed disquieting, yet I suppose they are all necessary risks that must be taken. I do believe it could be possible, though I am concerned about how you and your brother plan to deliver the virus without the necessary knowledge."

But then, the worried look in the croc's eyes were replaced by some hidden, consuming fire that whispered from the sickly blackness of city lights. It told him with every passing breath that Bishop had to pay. A haunting glimmer struck his eyes, visible through the half-light, its terrible glow enough to make any of his enemies cower back in fear.

"On the other hand, I do have something we may use as a communication device" he added with a devious smirk.

For a while, the croc rustled through the endless piles of packed equipment until he withdrew a black duffle bag and unzipped it unceremoniously with hurried, trembling fingers, drawing from it a set of four walkie-talkies.

"I have several of these devices in my laboratory. If we are able to communicate this to April and Donatello, we will be able to communicate with them as well. I have adjusted their frequency to an excessive range in a private communications network. It should be secured enough for this mission."

Handing one to each of them (save for Master Splinter who planned to stay behind with Casey) they all nodded in understanding, especially Raphael because he knew it was the sign he'd been looking for. His plan just might work.

He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail. The anger, the need to survive, to win, to succeed, penetrated his deepest being, coursing through him like his life's blood. He couldn't fail them again. This was the only way he could think to make it right again, hoping maybe, _just maybe,_ if Bishop listened to him, if he managed to knock some sense into him, he would see it his way and let his family live in peace.

But something in the back of his mind still told him these things couldn't be true. They were merely delusions, the dreams of fools.

After Casey had called April on her cell phone and had told her were to find the other talkies, the van had fallen silent again.

When they reached those towering concrete walls, the headlight's beams falling on the ominous white stone, glowing in the night like an endless sea of ghosts, they had reached their final destination. All the pieces were falling into place.

A pang of fear, a heart beat, pounding in their ears, muscles injected with adrenaline told them they were prepared, ready for the fight.

The van idled there for a moment, and everybody stared into the darkness, heavy like a million stones, like those concrete walls of ghosts were crushing down upon them, sealing in their fates.

"I guess this is our stop" breathed Raphael, his voice almost a whisper as it broke the impending silence. "Leatherhead, Mike, let's do this. Casey an' Master Splinter… you guys try an' find a place to park in an alley or somethin'. Keep yourselves hidden. We'll use the talkies ta tell you what's goin' on."

Then, the inhale that reminded him of the silence before the battle charge, before the storm raged on and flesh met metal, blood met earth. In this battle, there was no sand, no bodies buried in the dunes, mouths gaping as wide as the slits in their throats, the blood spattered on glittering katana that still haunted his dreams. Now, there was no war, no Shredder killing entire worlds of people, freeing criminals, killing his brother.

No, this night was different. This night, Bishop was no longer a changed man, but still a demon, an enemy, a foe.

Raphael grit his teeth and fingered his sai when his feet met the cracked pavement as his brother and his friend scrambled from the van and the headlights flickered and turned, melting away into the darkness, hidden from sight.

When the sound of Casey's struggling engine melded into the night sounds that gripped the city, the three stood there like their feet were part of the pavement, solid and unmoving, feeling vulnerable and exposed under the polluted twilight's haunting orange glow.

Michelangelo was the first to speak, as he felt the sudden weight of reality seeping in. The harsh bitterness of it made him shudder and finger his nunchaku, ready yet reluctant for the battle soon to come.

"You sure this is a good idea, Raph?" he breathed, trying not to let his voice betray his sense of nervous anxiety.

"Best idea I ever had" Raph grunted, pulling out a sai and examining it in the moonlight, its glittering steel shining like a ghost amidst the darkness. For a moment, he could almost see the blood that soon would bathe it, coat it in life-giving substance until the steel blackened with its own thick, living armor. Then, he slowly sheathed his weapon in his belt and withdrew his walkie-talkie, adjusting the sound before he turned it to the right frequency. Leatherhead and Mikey did the same.

"Hey, Case, ya hear me?"

"Loud an' clear" came Casey's voice from the other end. "Hey, Ape, you out there?"

"I'm here" came April's voice.

Then, a pause before Michelangelo picked up his own talkie.

"How's Don doing?"

"He's sleeping. I'll go wake him up."

"Nah, don't even bother" Raphael replied gruffly "he don't want ta help, remember."

"I think he does want to help you, Raph" April said, quietly remembering what Don had told her, the pain that filled his eyes, believing only in his own weakness, believing that he had failed. "He just wishes he could be there with you."

"But Donny said he didn't want to fight" Mikey corrected.

"No, he doesn't, but he still loves you guys. He would do anything for you. He just wishes he was in better shape to help you."

For a moment, Michelangelo paused to take a long look at Raph. "You should have waited for him" he said dryly, his eyes changing into a venomous glare.

"What was I supposed ta to about it! He can't do nothin' anymore. It's better he stayed there. He's such a damn baby!"

Fearing that Raphael's sudden outburst would draw unwanted attention, Leatherhead lay his hands on the turtle's shoulders. "Raphael, please, he is doing all he can. Now we must focus on the task at hand."

And for a while, Raphael just stood there, silent and fuming. His breaths coming to him in short, panting gasps, he belted his talkie and drew his glittering sai once more.

"Enough a this! Let's kick some ass!" he howled.

Then, a sound behind them drew their attention. The hollow footsteps of at least two men, their shadows cast long upon the pavement were quickly approaching.

With his eyes wide in panic, Michelangelo stared at his brother and stuttered "Raph… do you hear what I hear?"

"What the fuck are you talking about" he seethed, whirling around to where his brother's bewildered, staring eyes were locked. Then, he saw the approaching shadows. He muttered a curse under his breath and stared at his little brother, still standing motionless with his eyes fixed upon his encroaching doom.

"Dammit Mike! Don't just stand there, hide!" his older brother whispered fiercely, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the overgrown weeds of a yard just outside an abandoned warehouse building nearby.

As they hid, four men emerged from the shadows, their flashlight beams piercing through the darkness. Their lights scanned over the tall grass where the three lay motionless, their bodies pressed down into the frigid, polluted snow.

One shape spoke into a communication device to his superior. "Unidentified vehicle, second quadrant, east wall. No trace of specified vehicle."

For a moment, the three let out a breath of relief. But the sound of the responding voice pouring in from another line was enough to make them draw it in again. His voice, smooth and cold, calculating, dissecting. Bishop.

Michelangelo could feel his brother trembling with silent rage as the voice spoke from some place unknown.

"The security footage shows three occupants exiting the vehicle. Find them."

Then, Mike was pretty sure his heart stopped… yeah it definitely had stopped, because when the four dark-suited men approached the tall grass and shone those bright beams of light directly into his face, his pulse stopped beating in his ears and he just froze like a deer in the headlights.

Before he could move, before he could even breathe again, Raph and Leatherhead had erupted from the parched winter grass and lunged upon the four with primal ferocity, ripping, slicing, tearing at limbs, staining the snow red with blood.

And he watched the carnage with wide eyes, unbreathing and unmoving in the snow as the blood pooled around him and only two remained standing whole in the darkness, wearing the blood of their enemies. He could hear Leatherhead's low, feral growls as he put to death the final, whimpering body that lay on his feet, twisting his neck until it cracked with a sickening pop.

He stared like a stone, solemn and unbelieving as he watched his brother panting in the moonlight, wearing his blood and glaring down at the four dismembered bodies that lay at his feet. Without Leo, this is what he had become. His brother the warrior, the blood-soaked killer that destroyed with feral rage and without a shred of mercy.

This time, it wasn't the cold that made Michelangelo shudder.

"Shit" Raph mumbled underneath his breath. "They know we're here."

Michelangelo stood from where he lay in the snow and brushed himself off. "Well what're we gunna do now?"

"Stick with the plan. Leatherhead, you gotta go through the main gate."

Now fully composed after his kill, the croc stumbled backward a couple paces before eyeing Raphael. "Surely you don't mean…"

"I mean exactly what I say. You're gunna go knockin' on Bishop's front door whether he knows we're here or not. We still need a diversion for us ta slip in an' give Bishop tha virus, and watchin' you tear these goons apart, I think you'll have no problem holding your own."

But Leatherhead still looked stunned. "These men… they were not as strong as those I remember from the last time I was taken here. They were feeble and inexperienced compared to the others. The men that wait deeper within these walls possess strength, speed, and stamina unmatched by any other human creature."

But this didn't concern Raph. He was still feeling the high he had gotten from the battle just minutes before. The blood began to freeze upon his skin, but it was still thick and fresh. Without giving the worried crocodile as much as a reassuring nod, he held his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and called for April.

"You hacked inta Bishop's system, right?"

"I got in as far as I could. The security software is amazing. It's like something I've never seen before."

"Can ya get a map up for me? We gotta plan our little welcome party."

"Just a second…" her voice cut out for several minutes until it returned again. "I have a map of the place. Main exit is about a quarter mile off of Washington Street, due east about a mile from where you are now."

Raphael turned to Leatherhead. "Got it? East, one mile. Stay hidden and tell me when you get there. Don't attack till I give you the queue."

"Yes. I will do so" said Leatherhead, looking quiet formidable drenched in human blood, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of his massive form. Immediately, he turned and trudged east, ready to obey his orders to his last thread of reason.

When the giant croc melded into the dark and out of sight, Raph spoke to April again. "We need a back door, Ape."

After a short pause as she searched, she directed them due west to an air vent three stories up just a hundred or so yards from where they stood.

"Got it. We're goin' in. Anythin' else I should know about, Leatherhead?" he asked into the talkie.

"Do not underestimate the enemy. That is my only advice."

"You almost there?"

"I see the main entrance now. I will reach the gate in two minutes. It appears to be unguarded."

"Damn" Raphael cursed to himself "he definitely knows we're here."

Turning back to the talkie, he spoke again. "Just try an' get their attention, ok? They know we're trying ta get in, so just keep 'em busy for a while."

"Yes, I will try."

After that, Raphael and Michelangelo found the air vent a good forty feet above their heads at the top of a sheer concrete wall, no windows or ledges in sight.

Peering up at the vent, Raphael prayed "please tell me ya brought ya shuko."

"That's me, always prepared" grinned Michelangelo, pulling the metal spikes out of his belt and winding their leather straps around his hands.

"Since when?" Raph retorted.

"Since we're goin' on a suicide mission an' we needed them so bad on the last one you nearly got us killed on" Michelangelo said, throwing his brother a haughty glare that he could only feel through the darkness. "Your plans suck, by the way" he added venomously.

"Yeah, well fuck you. I'm doin' the best I can" Raph said, starting to scale the wall, which was an extremely slow and painful process with one missing arm.

But despite his stabbing words, Mikey climbed alongside his brother and aided him up the wall. "I just hope this plan is better than the last one."

Bracing against Michelangelo's arm drawn across his shell, Raph reached for his sai and wrenched the air vent open, letting it clatter to the pavement below. "Yeah" he grunted "I hope so too."

* * *

**Please don't hurt the innocent author… please? Ok, maybe I'll be living in my bomb shelter until the next chapter is finished. **

**And the story is almost done, by the way. I think there will be only six or seven more chapters to go! Ok… well that's almost done for me since this story is so damn long, but in reality, six or seven chapters is an entire normal-length story, isn't it?**


	31. Chapter 31: The Storm

Chapter 31: The Storm

Before April could turn and run quickly up the stairs to get Don, a noise in the doorway made her jump.

"They're in, aren't they" said a weak voice, breaking through the tension of silence so suddenly she almost spilled her coffee all over Leatherhead's computer.

"Don, you scared me. It's so creepy down here and with everything going on…" she ended her sentence with a frustrated noise and put her elbows on the desktop, resting her head in her palms. She could hear Donatello's soft footsteps behind her, the shuffling limp that now fell with every step. Slowly he approached and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks for doing this, April" he sniffed, then staggered back a step and blew his nose from the tissue box that he had recently become inseparable from.

"Don, you need to sit down before you fall down. You're still not looking too good. How do you feel?"

"Like something the cat dragged in, but a little better than before. Maybe I can help?"

"I guess there wouldn't be any harm. I think it would help Raph to know you're out there for him."

Donatello pulled up a metal folding chair and sat down beside April, rearranging the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. "He's still mad at me, isn't he?"

April couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She wished he wouldn't worry so much about others and start thinking a little more about himself. But that was Don, and some things never change.

"This is Raph you're talking about. His only emotion is anger" she laughed softly. She always knew Donatello to have a kind, breakable heart, but he never usually let Raph get under his skin. She sighed when his worried look didn't waver. Her expression turned more serious and she stared deep into her friend's hurting eyes. "He's worried about you, Don, and he really wants you to help. He's nervous to be doing something like this on his own."

"But he has Mikey, and Leatherhead and Master Splinter and…"

April cut him off "its Leo" she said quickly, yet almost a whisper "without Leo, he's scared to death."

Don looked down to the floor and pulled his blanket tighter, feeling again like the room was crushing down on him. He held back a frustrated sob of realization.

All he could say was "Oh."

* * *

In the winter night, a hulking shadow loomed near the entrance to EPA headquarters, a taste for blood, for vengeance screaming in its every muscle. Yet, Leatherhead refused to approach. Instead, he stalked his prey and waited like a hungry lion ready to erupt from the Savannah's tall grass and charge head-long into a heard of zebra, dig his claws and rip flesh from the bone, licking his chops after the kill.

"You are not a monster" the shadow insisted as his monstrous frame paced in the darkness.

"You are not a monster" it growled again, trying to quell the thirst, the anger, the blood lust in his eyes. But the adrenaline pumping through his blood stream, quickening the beating of his heart, engorging his muscles with blood, told him otherwise. He let out a low growl and licked his fangs at the memory of his victim's blood.

But the last time he had hungered this way, he had nearly killed his friend… or at least, if Raphael wasn't his friend, he was an innocent person none the less. He had helped him, he had meant him no harm, and yet he had dreamed of ripping out his throat and savoring the torn flesh, the life-giving blood.

He closed his eyes and shook his head free of the dangerous thoughts as he paced. If he was going to do this, if he was going to help his friends, he couldn't give in to the beast.

He fingered the electric collar around his neck, that life-saving device, and remembered Raphael's orders to remove it. But the notion scared him to death. He needed it if he were to stay in control. He needed it to bring him back, because with each passing moment, he felt the creeping fear settling in his bones. Maybe this time, he wouldn't stop. Maybe this time, he would never regain control.

It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

"I am a civilized creature" he demanded in an attempt to convince no one but himself. He breathed deeply and let his shoulders relax for a moment, the way Master Splinter had showed him, and tried to clear his mind of the thoughts of the cold-blooded predator that lurked in every darkened corner of his mind. He had the strength, the stealth, the stamina to overcome this battle without giving in… so why did it insist on resurfacing?

Bishop. It was Bishop who had done this to him. It was Bishop who had submerged him and his friends into this nightmare world. Bishop was the one who had first introduced him to that blood-thirsty predator that dwelled beneath his skin. Bishop was the one who had captured him a second time, and then a third, each time causing that beast, that monster, to become stronger, harder to fight, more dangerous every time.

If he did not fight, he would surely lose himself. If he did not fight, he couldn't be stopped. He would kill everyone, everything that stood in his way, enemy or otherwise.

He breathed again and loosened this tightly wound fists, knowing that the strength of his grip had bit his claws into the flesh of his palms, but the blood only fed the beast. He busied his mind to tear away from the instinct, to deny it behind the concrete walls of this wretched place, that slaughter house.

But the beast was closing in, consuming, tearing, fighting tooth and claw for every ounce of him, every shred of civility.

"Leatherhead! Are ya there yet or what?" demanded a gruff voice.

For a moment, he panicked, not knowing where or why he was stalking the alley on the edge of high concrete walls with such ferocity. Not knowing where or who the voice came from. He turned around quickly and growled into the shadows of the long-stretching alleyway, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

"Hey! Leatherhead! You there?" the voice demanded again, causing him to snap back to realization, becoming again a 'civilized creature.' He took the walkie from his belt and held it close to his snout within his enormous paws.

"Yes, Raphael, I am approximately one hundred yards from the main gate, and as I had suspected before, it remains unguarded."

"Fuck!" swore the turtle audibly from the other end. "Uh… sorry Master Splinter" he added, remembering his sensei could hear him too.

"What else do you see?" came another voice, harsh, but not gruff like his brother's.

"I see no living creature at the moment. No movement. It is as if the entire compound has been abandoned."

"Well ya know it ain't abandoned or we wouldn't have gotten the 'welcoming committee' back there" Raphael reminded.

"Ah, yes, you are correct. As you have said, it is probable that they know we are here. What is your course of action, Raphael?"

"Stick ta the plan. Just try an' make as much noise as ya can. Bash some heads in if ya hafta. They know _somebody's _here, but they probably don't know _who_. An' they sure as shell don't know you're taggin' along."

"I do hope you are correct" the crocodile said solemnly. "Though, how long do you suspect I need to create this 'diversion'?"

"I dunno" came Raphael's only, unsettling reply. "We're in the air duct right now an' I don't know how much longer it's gunna take for us ta' find an opening."

There was a pause as the conversation shifted.

"Hey, Ape, that map of yours tell us where this damn rat-maze leads?" he said "uh… sorry again, Master" he added.

"It is alright Raphael" said Splinter solemnly, his voice ringing loud from the other end. He tended to think that talking to someone in any way other than face-to-face made them deaf.

"It leads to an air-conditioning vent on the ceiling of a hallway near some kind of meeting room" April cut in. "Maybe there will be a computer there and you can implant the virus."

"Yeah, good thinkin'. I'm on it. I'll give ya a buzz when we get there. And Leatherhead?"

The croc jumped at the sound of his name, emerging from the storm that dwelled within him, teetering between himself and the beast.

"Go."

That simple command, that one, small word could have been enough to strike him down. His hands shook as he held the seemingly tiny device in his giant hand, holding back the urge to crush it. "Yes, Raphael. I will commence my diversion. Good luck, my friend."

"Yeah. You too" replied the gruff voice before the silence cut in again.

Taking another deep breath as if readying himself for the plunge, the croc let out a fierce, blood-curdling battle cry and charged head-long across the darkened parking lot, smashing through the gate, breaking it to smithereens with ease.

At each pounding footfall, his heart lept into his throat, knowing that every step brought him nearer to that wicked man. Every foot, every inch, every milimeter of ground he covered brought him closer to the most evil, heartless, blood-thirsty creature in all existence. Bishop.

* * *

Michelangelo and Raphael slinked on their hands and knees through the dusty, twisting metal tunnels that stretched across the ceiling of unknown places far below, crawling with untold numbers of enemies who knew they were coming, who sensed their presence from a mile away, who craved to capture, strap, and dissect them at that very instant.

Michelangelo couldn't help but tremble with the thought of that whirring metal blade slowly nearing his plastron, singing a wretched song of bloodlust and turtleflesh.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god._

It pounded in his eardrums with every passing beat of his heart.

_We are so gunna die._

He glared at Raphael crawling through the tunnel before him, Leo's katana strapped firmly to his shell. His trembling grew to tremor-like spasms as he crawled, hands and knees through the dusty tunnel, seething with unquenchable anger and hatred towards his brother.

"Some plan you got here, Raph" he whispered viciously, his voice barely audible in the silence.

Over his shoulder, Raphael shot his brother a venomous look. "You try an' think a somthin' better" he spat. "While you're at it, I'm gunna get the job done."

Michelangelo rolled his eyes, letting it pass for now. Their lives were in danger. Fighting wouldn't help anyone, and if there cover wasn't already blown, it definitely would be after that. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Leo's katana.

There was nothing else that pissed him off more than Raph prancing around pretending he was Leo. Especially because Raph was _definitely not_ Leo. If he were anything like Leo, he wouldn't feel like he was marching to his execution right now. He always trusted Leo with every ounce of his being. He was rational, calculating, clever, always holding back to assess the situation before the plunge. Raph was none of these things.

Mike could almost see his life flashing before his eyes already.

When Raph shuffled to a quick halt, he had been so consumed by his venomous, doom-ridden thoughts that he nearly smashed his face right into his brother's shell.

He soon found himself with his eyes just inches from the katana.

"I hate you" he seethed into Raphael's ear from behind, and he could immediately see his brother's muscles tense like rigormortis.

"Let's just get through this" he seethed through his teeth, his muscles still wound tightly, begging for a fight. "Then I'm so gunna enjoy tearin' you apart."

As Raphael silently wrenched the air-conditioning grate from the bottom of the duct that lay before his knees, he couldn't help but think that he hated himself a little too.

_What is his problem? _He thought, bracing himself before his made the final plunge down the gaping, dark hole that now opened like a hungry mouth before him. _I thought we got over this!_

And like a shadow, he slipped from the ceiling and swung off the grate's edge, landing gracefully in the darkened hallway. As he dashed for cover around the corner, his brother did the same. Standing side by side in the dark, they panted with anticipation, their hearts pounding loud in their eardrums.

"This is creepy" Michelangelo breathed. "Where is everybody?"

Then, a faint, terrifying roar echoed through the empty halls, resounding across the building, telling tales of death and devastation.

"That answer your question?" Raphael smirked and peered down either side of the hallway before walking casually into the open space. It was so dark in there, there was almost no need to hide.

"Hey Ape?" he said quietly into his walkie "where's that room you were talkin' bout?"

"Down the hall about fifty feet to your left. It should have big double doors."

"Gotcha" he said into the walkie again, and then turned and glared at his brother. "Come on, shell for brains."

Reluctantly, with his arms crossed over his plastron, Michelangelo emerged from his hiding place and followed after his brother, a thousand scenarios for their demise still flashing through his brain.

When they found the doors miraculously unnoticed, Raphael picked the lock with the tip of his sai and swung it open with a long, low, unsettling creak.

Trembling with fear of the unknown as well as the memories of the sounds of dissection tools, they peered into the consuming darkness of the room.

"It's dark in there" Mikey whispered.

"No shit, braniac" Raphael said sarcastically as he marched in and let his eyes adjust to see nothing out of the ordinary… the outlines of tables and chairs arranged in a hexagonal formation, a large projector screen and podium on a little stage-like platform, a metal desk in the corner and… a security camera.

"Oh shell" he murmured, watching the little, red flashing light wink at him through the darkness. He dropped to the ground and froze until something whirring through the air caught his attention.

A shiruken lodged itself in the camera and the red light went dim.

"Thanks, Mike" he muttered, gathering himself up off the floor.

Two more whizzing objects passing over his head was his only answer, lodging themselves into two other nearby cameras.

"You really didn't think this through, did you?" Michelangelo glared from the doorway, his arms still crossed over his plastron.

Raphael stood tall and growled at his brother. "I'm doin' the best I can!"

Mikey pushed himself off from leaning on the doorframe without uncrossing his arms and walked into the pitch black room.

"That obviously isn't good enough" he spat. "Now help me get my shiruken back. Those were the only ones I found in Donny's bag at the Lair.

Throwing another glare in his brother's direction, he walked to the corner below the security camera and looked up.

"You're gunna hafta get on my shoulders. I can't lift ya like I usta."

Michelangelo nodded and clambered up, wrenching all three shiruken from each camera and putting them back into his belt.

"It's really weird that no alarms or something didn't go off" he said as he lept to the ground.

"Yeah. I don't like it. I think I'd rather be fightin' for my life than gettin' freakin' paranoid that somebody's gunna jump us. But I guess that's what Leatherhead's for."

"You really have no idea what you're doing, do you" Michelangelo snapped.

Raphael could feel his muscles tensing up again. If somebody didn't spot them soon, he was going to end up beating his brother instead.

"Shove it, Mikey. This ain't the time" he seethed. "Now help me look for a computer or somethin'."

"All I see is tables and chairs. No computers" he shrugged. "_great_ _thinking_, Raphael. I'm glad you're so on top of things."

"Fuck off. I'm callin' April" he growled as he picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Ape… I don't see a computer in here. What I do ta make this virus thing work?"

"What else is in the room?" came Donatello's shaky reply instead. Raph and Mikey shared a perplexed look.

"Well look who finally decided ta help" he sneered. "I knew you'd cave."

"Whatever Raph" said Don with agitation. "What else is in the room?"

"Uh… tables, chairs, a desk…"

"What kind of _technology_" he said slowly as if it was the first time his brother had ever heard the English language.

"Oh… um… there's a projector."

"Ok. I'll take it" said Donatello quickly, preparing himself for some creative wiring. "If you guys can unhook the projector, it should have a bunch of wires that are connected to a computer of sorts. Just unplug everything and tell me what you see."

Immediately, Michelangelo hopped up onto the polished table and grabbed hold of the projector with both hands, ripping it from the ceiling and leaving behind a tangled mess of wires.

"Ok. I see… one red, to blue and a black" he said into his own walkie.

"Does any of them have a flat, square connection? Most likely the black one."

Examining the wires, he gave himself a silent nod. "Yeah, Don. The black one does."

"Perfect. Now get the laptop. This is gunna be tricky."

Raphael took the black bag from his shoulder and tossed it to Michelangelo from halfway across the room.

Mikey was just glad Don couldn't see that because he knew he probably would have flipped his lid.

Then as if he _could _see them, he chided from the other end "please don't break anything."

"Yeah, don't get ya shell in a bunch. We got it. Now what?" Raph replied.

"We get to work."

* * *

The blue glow of the monitors was all the light he needed, casting silvery pools of light across his sharp, hardened features.

As he watched the images flash, one after another, his lips pulled into a grotesque, sideways smile, casting shadows across every line and feature until his face was just a haunting mask in the half-light.

He saw the figures dance upon his screen and grinned.

A van pulling up to the east wall. Three figures. Not human.

Let them come.

Sensors in the air ducts were tripped.

Let them come.

The beast… a diversion.

Subdue it. Let them come.

Cameras in the conference room… 1, 2, 3. They left one behind.

He watched the monitor more closely now with vicious blood lust and intent.

They had come.

After all his searching, taking their home, taking their ally and returning him broken… still thinking he had escaped.

They had finally come.

Wherever they had gone for three whole years, however they had managed to slip by right beneath his nose, it ended tonight.

Their home, a diversion.

The crocodile creature, a lure.

And now it begins where the Spider's Web had led them. He would not allow for his prey to escape twice with their lives intact.

Now, The Storm had begun.

Surrounded by darkness and hurried movements of bustling agents, he laughed wickedly, greedily, heartily at their demise, fond thoughts of how he could make their lives worse than death, worse then a living hell.

Soon, they would be begging for death.

Soon, they would be yearning for hell.

They were finally his.

* * *

_I just wanted to thank you guys soooooo much for reviewing. 100 reviews! Yay! Special thanks to winged monkey and 54 viruses for sticking it out from the very beginning. Also, Deana, Tauni, Becca T, and the newest members of my reviewing family, Anti Loqax and Kyaserin Marii Love ya guys!_

_Much love,_

_Willowfly_


	32. Chapter 32: Return to the Shadows

Chapter 32: Return to the Shadows

Charging through the metal gate came the beast, roaring wide with glistening fangs shining in the moonlight, he ran on all fours, driven by the scent of blood yet to be spilled.

Silence.

The creature growled a low, throaty sound as it stalked through the darkness, eyes gleaming like torchlight in the gaping blackness. He sniffed the air, great huffing breaths visible in the cold grip of night, and approached the heavy doors, roaring like an ugly, feral thing, his challenge to that horrible man.

_Come to face me Bishop, for you shall be vanquished!_

Fear. All he could smell was putrid, rotting fear leaking from behind that thick metal door. He curled his lips into a vicious smile, baring rows of glistening teeth. They remembered him well, and they shan't soon forget.

Pound. Pound. Pounding his fists into the heavy steel, leaving dents the size of craters behind, warping, twisting metal as he roared at the memories of him.

His scars showed brightly in the moonlight, told tales of what he had done, and he felt himself begin to change as control slowly ebbed away.

_No. I can do this without regressing into that…that animal I have become_.

But his anger fed him on, fueled the scorching fire that burned from deep within, causing him to snarl at these wicked men that stood beyond their metal barricade, solemn yet reeking of fear.

With one final lunge, the croc grabbed the corner of the dented door and peeled it open like a flimsy tin can, ripping it away in a stiff, twisting curl, revealing the men that stood at the ready, waiting for his attack in the darkness.

He charged, ripped, clawed, barreled through the bodies and roared again as he skidded across the concrete ground crouched low on all fours, claws screeching as they dug deeper and left long, gaping scars in the stone. Quickly he regained his footing, turned and charged again. Sending a great, hulking paw into the mass of darkly-clothed men, he wiped them aside with the indulgent crack of bone and another flash of pearly teeth. He tore flesh, ripped muscle, broke bone into the endless sea of bleeding bodies who still refused to falter, who still continued their unwavering attempt to take him down.

And as he fought with a ferocious lust for blood, he saw no weapons in their hands. He saw these men struck down by the death blows and return to the fight unscathed. He swatted again into the mass and saw the leaping blood, yet all refused to fall.

He let out a furious roar and found himself surrounded, countless sets of hungry eyes slowly creeping in around him, closing in for the kill. His chest heaving from his burning lungs, he stared from face to stone-carved face as he felt the sting of injury settling in, the dull, throbbing pain of imminent defeat.

He faltered backward and flinched as his back hit concrete wall, eyes darting from one solemn face to the other. He panted, growling lowly as lethal panic set into burning arteries.

As quick as reality could allow, he reached into his belt and withdrew the walkie talkie.

"Raphael. Michelangelo. I am surrounded. These men are simply too strong. I cannot hold them back for much longer."

His muscles tensed as the rows of his enemies pressed forward and withdrew their hidden weapons from within dark trench coats. Within every hand ignited the blue twisting flame of a taser gun.

The crocodile swallowed hard and narrowed his yellow eyes into a venomous glare, his back pressed firmly against the cold stone wall as he watched in slow-motion the waves of battle, the sound of his fate being sealed.

_Bishop, _he roared in silent, furious rage,_ you coward._

* * *

In that silent room, Leatherhead's voice boomed over the walkies, making their hearts leap together in one simultaneous lunge of panic. Raphael looked to his little brother, now tangled in a jungle of webs and wires dangling from the ceiling, and knew he felt it too.

"We gotta go to him" Raph breathed, sickening panic settling deep in his bones.

Michelangelo reached for his walkie with his free hand and spoke. "Don, how much longer?"

"I'm still hacking into the system. The firewalls are amazing and… they just keep coming. Once we get in, it will be a matter of seconds."

A dry laugh escaped his throat in sync with the sound of the furious clicking of the keyboard. "It's kind of funny, really... but I figured out what Bishop wanted with my lab equipment...most of these programs are mine, just more advanced in a way I can barely believe. They're almost impenetrable."

"How long will it take for you to get in?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Donatello answered, this time his voice sharing the same rotting panic as his brothers. "Uh… um… it's hard to say…"

"Spit it out, Donny" Raph demanded.

"It could take... maybe… three hours?" he said shakily "But really, there's no way to predict these things…"

"We ain't got three hours Don" Raph said angrily into the device. "You heard L.H., he's in trouble. We gotta get there _now_."

"I'm going as fast as I can!" shouted Donatello with panicked frustration. "I'm hacking into a government mainframe, not stealing cable, ok!"

"Just do it" Raphael said in a low growl, so deep and ferocious Donatello did not dare to respond.

"Do it now or I'll go alone."

* * *

As those twisting blue flames approached, his muscles twitched at the memory of the searing pain those tiny electric fires could emit, the paralysis that followed as every ounce of sinew contracted in violent protest, rendering him useless. It was a sensation he would never soon forget, a memory that still haunted him every time his mind wandered, every time he allowed himself to remember those four months of unspeakable torture.

They drew nearer, faces frozen solid like stone as he watched the twisting blue electricity dance in a circle around him, stunned into the frozen stupor of shock and defeat.

That is, until he saw them.

Their faces had blurred in his memory by the sedatives, the seething rage of the beast that had consumed him during his previous capture. But instead, he saw them in full clarity now.

This time he was not blinded by his rage, that murderous beast… until now.

All his control, that undying urge for self-preservation, the device around his neck… they were all testimony to his endless battle against that burning rage. He had come so far without giving in to that clawing at his brain. Now, there was only one thing that could make him lose his grasp: Bishop.

His yellow eyes lifted from the tasers to their features shadowed in the blue glow of their own demonic weapons, cold and chiseled from stone, he came face to face with hell itself.

As if injected with some type of drug, like pure, coursing adrenaline, his pupils contracted in his eyes, slits like paper cuts amidst the yellow glow. His arteries dilated, his heart pounding murderously in his chest as if the ventricles would burst and let his life's blood leak out. He let out a feral roar, seething through his teeth one long, hissing exhale. "Bishop!"

* * *

"Hurry up Donny" yelled Raph into the walkie. That last roar of their crocodile friend was still echoing through the narrow passageways. _Bishop._

"Damn it! He cursed, starting to pace again across the floor, gripped by fear and paranoia. But try as he may, images of Bishop brutally slaughtering Leatherhead at that very moment just wouldn't leave his mind. With a frustrated growl, he buried his fist into a metal panelled wall, leaving behind a gaping dent.

"If you keep rushing me, it'll never get done!" Donatello yelled back, his voice sharing the same mixture of emotions: frustration, panic, fear.

"I gotta help him!" Raph roared to anyone who would listen. He started pacing even faster, muscles tensing, fingering his sai as the electrifying sounds of an epic battle carried on through the building, ricocheting off the metal walls in every direction.

"Fuck!" he screamed as he pounded a good-sized dent into a nearby wall. "We gotta get out there Mikey. Forget this, there gunna kill 'im!"

Michelangelo, still supporting April's half-dismantled laptop suspended from the ceiling like a marionette hanging from a tangled mess of wires that was had once resembled a projector. He looked down to his brother and shook his head.

"No. Donny said we gotta do this. It's part of the plan, isn't it?"

"Screw the plan!" Raphael seethed "It sucks. You said it yourself! L.H. is gunna die out there if we don't help him!"

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Do what you want" he said venomously "I'm staying here because that's what Don wants me to do. This time I'm gunna have to side with my only brother who hasn't completely lost his mind! Leatherhead can take care of himself, Raph. This is the only way we can get back at Bishop for doing all of this to us!"

Another roar echoed through the halls, this time dripping with searing pain. Michelangelo paused until the hideous sound collected in the farthest reaches of the building, lingered and then died.

"And yeah" he added "your plan does suck, they all do, so stop disgracing this family by trying to act like Leo. You're not him, and you never will be!"

"Fuck you! I'm outta here!" Raphael roared over his shoulder, leaving his youngest brother behind in his tangle of wires and techno-garbage. As far as he went, the only way they could ever get even with Bishop was to stab his sai through his filthy, wicked eye.

* * *

_Control. Control. I have lost control..._

The beast charged, swinging a hulking claw at his head, this time catching him off guard.

"Bishop!" the beast roared again through glistening fangs, anger steeped in every syllable.

The man ducked but was struck, the claw connecting with skull, his head shifting unnaturally sideways as arterial blood poured from the torn skin.

From within, Leatherhead winced and felt like he could be sick. He could only watch from afar as the beast stood over the body and tore his fangs into his flesh.

_He was eating him… oh god… he was eating him..._

A terrible sensation wracked his body as a tasers met flesh, causing him to contort and lay seizing on the blood-stained ground.

_Dead! Bishop is dead! _He rejoiced despite the pain, the nausea, the fear.

Another shockwave wracked his body, but the beast did not stay down. In the midst of terrible contortions, he leapt up and lunged again, pouncing with his immense weight, crushing every bone.

He looked down to see the flattened, death-swollen face. Bishop.

For a moment, the beast was gone. His eyes widened and he stumbled back from the corps. Bishop. But… that was Bishop and…

_Dead? Not dead! More than one!_

The next attacker stepped closer, tasers ignited to char his flesh. Bishop.

The beast took hold again and roared, clawing the man through the abdomen, ignoring the pain of the taser on his arm.

_Strong. They were far too strong, so unnaturally strong!_

Bishop, the man, his attacker, whomever he should be, stood again. The gashes had torn his abdomen open, exposing tender, bleeding flesh beneath a hanging flap of skin, but still he charged.

The beast crouched down on all fours, low to that concrete ground and leapt to meet the wicked creature, this superhuman monster. A tingling sensation at his throat nearly stopped him.

_The device! The device! I must regain control before it is too late!_

But try as he may, the beast would not retreat to the darkest corners of his mind. He would fight, lust, lunge, gorge on the flesh of his enemies, and exact his revenge.

He mauled the man down, twisted in midair and leapt for the others.

_Growing. The sensation was growing. Pain! Searing, paralyzing pain!_

The beast howled as the charges shot down his body, stronger than one hundred taser's charge. He was fallen. He was through.

* * *

Raphael ran as fast as his legs could carry him through those dark, twisting hallways, drawn by the sounds of an epic, blood-soaked battle. He drew his sai from his belt and turned a corner into yet another narrow, dim-lit corridor.

_Damn. This place is like a freakin' maze!_

In truth, it reminded him of the Carrier, Bishop's massive starship that had brought them to Atun, that hellish nightmare where he had lost his brother, a nightmare he wished he could just wake up from already.

He grit his teeth at the flash of memory, tearing his mind away from the pain it brought him and letting the shadow of memory guide him on, faster, stronger. Revenge bubbled inside him like a coursing river, a dam ready to break. His family had fallen apart because of that war, Bishop's war. His life was ruined because of him.

It was because of Bishop that Leo was dead. _He_ had killed his brother.

The sounds of battle drew nearer as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. The hungry glint of his sai flashed in the darkness as he ran and turned another corner, muscles tensing, ready for his bloody revenge.

One last turn revealed the great expanse, the blood-soaked concrete floor of cavernous darkness, the immense twin metal doors peeled back into a vicious curl, letting in the winter's snow.

And there was Leatherhead, howling amongst a sea of black-clothed agents, gripping at his own throat, eyes rolling back in pain. The device was still around his neck.

"Damn it Leatherhead!" he screamed aloud, yet amongst the croc's pain-filled roar, his voice was drown by the echo.

He tightened his grip on his single sai and charged as the croc dropped into a heap on the ground, muscles twitching as they had that night in the old farmhouse basement.

His heart leapt into his throat as his stomach clenched in sheer, raw terror.

His plan had gone terribly wrong.

The agents were in a circle around his friend's collapsed body, tasering every ounce of flesh exposed within their reach. Slowly, they were killing him.

Before they could notice, Raphael stormed from the corridor and plunged his sai into the nearest man's back, burying the dagger's tip deep into the muscle.

Without faltering, the man turned, inches from his face, lost behind those dense black glasses, and grinned.

Bishop.

Raphael lost his grip on his weapon and stumbled back, eyes wide in fear and realization. Instead of falling, instead of crying out in pain, the man just grinned and attacked.

* * *

"Mikey! I'm in!"

At that very moment, Michelangelo felt like he could jump for joy.

"You're in!"

"I'm in!"

The excitement in his brother's voice betrayed the severity of the situation. Raph had left, alone, and charged headlong like the stubborn hothead he demanded to be, into the thick of battle.

"I have to go! I have to help them!" he screamed into the walkie, dropping the laptop strung from the ceiling that he had held over his head for nearly an hour now.

"Wait… now! Go! It's in!"

Michelangelo leapt from the table and sprinted out the door, following the sounds of battle as his brother had before him.

"Mikey, be careful, ok?"

The sounds drew nearer as he ran. A hard knot sprang into his throat at his brother's desperate, pleaing words.

"I will Don. I promise."

* * *

"You wanna play?" Raphael sneered to the dark figure barreling ferociously towards him. He reached behind his shell and slowly withdrew his brother's sword, long and sparkling in the half light. "Then fuck, let's play."

Without missing a step, Bishop charged, ducking low into a tackle that swept his legs from under him. They landed together in a heap, sending Leo's katana skidding across the ground. He hit the floor so hard, his shell left a dent in the concrete.

Now Bishop was just inches from his face, holding a taser to his throat.

"Get offa me ya filthy scum bag!" he roared, delivering the man a forceful kick to the breastbone, sending him reeling backwards in midair.

Instead of collapsing, the man landed gracefully on his feet, still gripping his ignited taser.

Raphael eyed his brother's sword lying helpless on the ground just beyond the enemy, and smirked.

"Good thing I got two a these!" he growled, withdrawing the second sword, directing its tip to the enemy's throat, and charged.

Something behind him had caught Bishop off guard because for a split second, his eyes were peeled away. Raphael grinned as he saw the opening. Leaping up into a flip, he brandished the sword in midair and sliced through his enemy's neck, sending his head rolling onto the ground.

With Bishop fallen, covered in his arterial blood, Raphael turned to see a shadow leaping up from above. With a great war whoop, Michelangelo tucked into a roll and twirled his nunchaku into the crowd of agents still tasing Leatherhead's unconscious body. Five lay dead, including Bishop. Yet, with their numbers dwindling and their leader fallen, the remaining men did not falter.

Soon, both brothers were locked into an epic battle, still fighting with every once of skill and strength they possessed against a sea of enemies who refused to fall and who did not even carry weapons.

In the middle of the fray, Michelangelo struck his opponents and sent them stumbling to his brother who dealt the fatal wounds with Leonardo's sword. Yet, another glance at his enemy's face before the blade had struck rendered him speechless.

"What the fuck is going on?" he panted, slicing open another agent, his blood spilling to the floor.

Michelangelo smashed another agent in the temple and shot a look to his brother as the agent charged again, seemingly unharmed.

"Every one of these guys looks like fucking Bishop!"

Before he could strike the agent again, he took a long, hard look at his face, then smashed it in hard with blood-curdling disgust, sending him barreling half-dazed toward Raphael. He gasped when he saw his features, that cold, chiseled smirk behind dark glasses. Every single one was Bishop.

"They can't be Bishop. I just killed 'im!" Raphael roared as he sliced open his next opponent.

"I don't think you did. What if these guys are clones?" Mike yelled over his shoulder, striking down another opponent so hard his skull crushed in. That one, Raph didn't need to finish off.

"Like the army" Raphael panted, surveying the last of his opponents. Only a handful remained, and just as his little brother had suspected, they all were identical. They all were Bishop.

Within minutes, the last of them were gone. The final agent crumpled at Raph's feet and panic made him drop his brother's sword, clanging on the ground in the new-found silence. He ran over to Leatherhead's unmoving form where Michelangelo was already trying to shake him awake.

The croc had burn marks seared all over his body, joining the scars that had remained from his last imprisonment in that wretched place. The whole room smelled like copper blood and charcoal skin.

Michelangelo had tears in his eyes as he tried to shake the giant awake, jarring him harder and harder until he could no more. He pounded his friend on the chest with his fists.

"Leatherhead, please! Don't die! Please don't die!" he sobbed, giving up his fruitless attempts and burying his head in the crook of the croc's thick neck.

Raphael reached out and touched his brother's shoulder, pulling him into an embrace. His little brother's tears stained warm on his shoulder.

But then, a sound made Michelangelo's head shoot up, his tears abandoned for a look of horror. Raphael broke free of the embrace and spun around to see the reason for the terrified look in his brother's eyes.

A dark figure emerged from the shadows. In his shroud of blackness, he was clapping.

"Well done, turtles" the poisonous voice sneered. Both brothers leapt into their battle stance. There was no questioning who lingered there behind the darkness.

"I have to admit, you never cease to amaze me" he said dryly and the paused, stepping forward into the half-light, letting only a fraction of his stone-carved features become revealed in the moonlight, abandoning the rest in clinging shadow.

"Three years!" he roared "three years I hunted you and without a trace! How you managed to escape my grip I do not know. But what I do know is that this little… plan of mine has brought you right where I want you."

He motioned toward Leatherhead, never losing that wicked, evil sneer. "You can thank your little friend over there for leading you right into my trap. Congratulations turtles, you have finally failed."

At that, Michelangelo whimpered, still nervously twirling his nunchaku. Raphael stood weaponless yet at the ready, teeth bared and eyes narrowed, muscles screaming for revenge.

"You killed my brother!" he roared, charging at the twisted figure that stood before him. But in his mindless rage, he didn't think twice. Bishop was stronger, definitely stronger than he remembered. There was no denying that this guy was the real deal.

When he lunged, the shadow bolted quick as lightning and delivered a debilitating kick to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him as he felt the horrid snap. He stumbled backward, clutching his side, and crumpled to the ground.

He remembered the last time he had broken his ribs. There was no question. It had happened again.

He closed his eyes tight and cried out as he clawed helplessly at his side, curling into a ball against the unbearable pain.

"Raph!" Michelangelo gasped. He twirled his nunchaku even faster as he charged, raising his weapons for a one-two strike at the real Bishop's head. He didn't expect what happened next.

Just inches away from the bone-crushing strike, Bishop caught his wrists, and in one smooth movement, flipped him over and sent him crashing to the ground, lying flat on his shell.

Michelangelo looked up, stunned as he gasped, trying to regain the breath that had been squeezed out of his lungs. He watched helpless as his looming figure, the devil himself, drew back and delivered a skull-crushing kick to his head.

Then, no light, no sound, no pain penetrated the unyielding veil of shadow as the darkness finally prevailed.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Thanks Eridani23 for your reviews. I know you've stuck with me for a long time. And thanks to winged monkey and Anti Loquax, all mistakes have been repaired._

_54 viruses, don't worry, I just thought I should celebrate my 100 review mark by thanking everyone. I'm not going to kill __all __of them. (Insert evil laugh here) But you know I'm not afraid to kill off characters (for a good reason, as always)._


	33. Chapter 33: Red Sky Morning

Chapter 33: Red Sky Morning

Wrong. There was something utterly, terrifyingly wrong with the silence that had enveloped them for two whole hours. Donatello shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his mind running through the terrible scenarios that could be playing out as he sat there, alone and helpless with April in the dark by the glow of the computer screens.

"April" he whispered, a barely audible hushing sound that leaked through the quiet "I think something is wrong."

April opened her eyes, adjusting back to reality from her state of half-sleep, half-nightmare. She leaned closer to him now, eyes wide when she saw the fear that lingered behind his darkened features, the eerie blue light of the monitor's glow.

"What's going on?" she breathed, reaching out and touching him, trying to ease the look of grief that had swept over him.

"I… I don't know…" he trailed, peeling his eyes away to look up at the cracked plaster ceiling, as if it held all the answers. "I just had a bad feeling."

"I'm sure they're ok" she whispered "they need to be quiet. Maybe they found Bishop."

Donatello unconsciously trembled with fear. "That's what I'm afraid of."

As April had drowsed, the quiet turtle had been locked in the throws of his own dark imagination. It had all seemed so real. It was like those visions Master Splinter had described, a glimpse into another time, another place, so real it was like you were there yourself, experiencing every sensation.

All he had felt was pain.

He trembled again and April drew him in to her, embracing him in the sweet warmth, her hair smelled like lavender. But still, he could not keep those terrible images from rushing through his mind.

_Bishop, his face on many bodies. Blood, pouring onto the floor. Leatherhead unconscious in a heap surrounded by dark-clothed agents brandishing tazers against his skin. The scent of burned flesh and copper. The sound of his voice_.

It had all been so real.

"You… you're really shaken up about this" April said, drawing back and looking him hard in the eye. He looked so… defeated. "Don, what's going on?"

He closed his eyes tightly, refusing to meet her gaze, and tried to shake his head clean of the thoughts that plagued him.

_They were fine, really. Fine. Maybe they just didn't want to talk to him because he had refused to help. Maybe they were still mad he hadn't tagged along. Raph was pretty angry while he was hacking the system…_

_But that's Raph, and the virus was implanted. There definitely had to be something wrong._

"I… think I'd feel better if I just talked to them" he breathed, losing the battle to forbid his voice from shaking. April nodded as he picked up the walkie.

"Raph" he whispered, as quiet as his trembling voice would allow.

No answer.

"Mikey?"

Again, silence. His heart was sinking.

"Leatherhead? Are you guys out there?"

_Ok. Maybe he was overreacting. They were just busy. Yeah, just busy. _

He set the walkie down on the desk and watched it expectantly, yearning for his brothers' voices to pour from the other end. He glanced at the clock. Five minutes. No answer.

_Come on guys, _he pleaded, hands shaking, _please be ok._

* * *

Slowly, Raphael opened his eyes and blinked away the hazy blur of confusion that wracked his brain.

The room was red and dim-lit, surrounded by technology that could in no way be from earth. A conglomeration of wires, machinery, tools…

He caught his breath when he remembered, a sharp gasp that filled his lungs and made him howl as pain exploded down his side. He'd forgotten about the ribs.

He tried to contort himself against the pain, but found his arms and legs bound by chains, a leather strap around his plastron that insisted on pushing down against the broken bones. It almost hurt too much to breathe. It made him want to scream.

He struggled hard against the chains, making the pain burst through him in stabbing torrents of fire, but swallowing it for the sake of rage. His muscles tensed and pulled against the restraints, causing the chains to jingle, yet remain obscenely taught. Another crashing wave of pain made him cry out again and slip into a stream of rampant curses. He grit his teeth and growled something feral as he battled wave after penetrating wave.

Breathing quick, shallow pants, his panic returned to him as he surveyed the darkened room, the glass chambers that held creatures unlike anything he had ever seen before suspended in some kind of liquid. Then, the memory hit him and the phrase emerged in his brain in Donatello's voice. _Hibernetic sleep._

He growled again in pain and anger. If Bishop was planning on preserving him in that crap like some kind of biology class frog, he had another thing coming.

It was weird how silent it was, aside from the humming of the machines and the occasional bubble from the fish-tank like chambers.

_Creepy, _he thought hazily, _I almost wish there was some action right now. I'm gettin' so fuckin' paranoid just sittin' here._

Raphael swallowed hard, the constant pain surging through his side was almost unbareable. He closed his eyes tightly, winced and groaned again.

"Raph?"

His brother's voice was so quiet, hazy, coated in a mixture of fear and pain. He didn't answer because he knew that if he tried, it would come out as a scream. Instead, he winced and bit his tongue.

"You… ok?"

Raphael groaned when he turned his head. His little brother was chained down beside him in that same crude fashion. His eyes were closed and a deep furrow of pain set deep in his brow.

"N-never betta" he managed to say after the last crashing wave of pain subsided. "That bastard hurt my ribs is all."

Now Michelangelo was wincing, trying to reach up and clutch the nasty purple bruise forming on the side of his head. He knew that if he opened his eyes, the room would be spinning.

"I-I don't feel so good" he croaked "my head hurts."

"Sounds like you got a concussion" Raphael gasped, trying to hide the pain in his own voice. Even though it hurt, he had to keep talking. It was the only thing that kept him from panicking.

"I think I'm gunna hurl" Michelangelo moaned, growing suddenly pale.

"No, don't. If ya do it's got nowhere ta go but all over you."

Mikey laid his head back and took three deep, calming breaths. Raph was right. If he gave in to the urge, things would get pretty messy.

He remembered this place from before, or at least, the sensation of the straps and chains pinning him to the table. It was like being back on Bishop's dissection table at Area 51. He struggled against the chains for a moment, but found himself weak and lay helpless against the support of the restraints. For a moment, he sat there in silence, listening to his brother's labored breathing.

"Raph?"

His brother's answer was more of a gasp than a word. "Yeah?"

"What're they gunna do to us?"

Raphael grit his teeth and turned his head back toward his brother who was staring at him through half open eyelids. "I… I don't know Mikey."

"I'm scared" Michelangelo admitted, his voice trembling more like the naïve little boy he had been before The War than the hardened man he had become.

Raphael didn't answer. Whether it was for the sake of his pride, or the fact that the pain forbid his voice from escaping, he just couldn't admit that he was scared too.

"We're gunna find a way outta here. I promise" he managed to say in the strongest voice he could muster. His voice was shaking and Mikey knew it.

Raph watched his little brother, studied him, remembering him well. Every feature, every mark, every scar that lingered on his skin was burned into his memory forever. He never wanted to forget. He wanted to drink it in, to remember his baby brother in every detail, every inch. Leo died there in his arms, and he hated himself for not remembering everything. Sometimes, he felt like he slowly would forget.

This time, he was going to remember. He never wanted to forget. He loved him. He loved his baby brother with every ounce of his soul, and he hoped he knew it, because it was something he would probably never have the courage to say.

As if he sensed his brother's gaze, Michelangelo turned his head and struggled to open his eyes again. Beside him, Raph was only a blur, but there was something final and gut-wrenchingly sincere behind his gaze, something so pure it made him want to cry, to reach out and touch him though the chains had forbid it. His heart leapt into his throat as he struggled against the tears.

"I… I'm so sorry Raphael, for treating you like I did" he whispered, the tears stinging at his eyes. "You know I don't hate you, right bro?"

Raphael's voice was faint. "I know" he whispered, voice trembling. He breathed, short and rattling. "I know."

"After Leo… it's just so hard" he whispered, voice wavering as he closed his eyes tight against the tears, a single one escaping him, rolling down his cheek. "When you had his katana, it just made me crazy. I miss him so much…" now he was really crying, he could feel their stream of warmth against his cheeks. "I- I thought you were trying to replace him."

For a moment, silence reigned. If Mike could see straight, he would swear that Raph was crying too.

"I… I blamed myself for it Mike. That's why I went that way. That's why I hate myself. That's why I…" he paused and let out a small, barely audible sob. Mike could hear it, and his heart was breaking to pieces. "I just… wanted ta be close to him. It was the only way I could."

He opened his eyes and gazed into his little brother's, seeing the love there, the forgiveness. On the horizon of death, he threw all caution to the wind. He swallowed back another excruciating wave of pain, choking on his stubborn tears.

"I'm not strong like you, Mike. I've never been" he whispered, his fist clenched against the pain, nails biting into flesh. It hurt to talk, but he just didn't care.

"When he was dying, he told me to be tha leader, to take care a you guys, but I couldn't." He closed his eyes and swallowed again, the pain coursing hotly down his side and the hidden tears raging beneath his eyes. "His swords… they're like a piece of him. You remember how he loved those damn things."

Raphael sighed and looked over to Mikey. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on the back of the table. He looked like he had fallen asleep except for a small nostalgic smile trembling across his lips. "When I had 'em, it was like he was there, helpin' me, and you know I need all the help I can get."

But now, Mikey's face didn't change. He just sat there, eyes closed as if in some peaceful slumber. Raphael's heart fluttered in his chest.

"Mike?"

No answer. He watched his brother's plastron to look for the rise and fall, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of a metal door slamming open, hurried footsteps drawing nearer.

"Mike! Mikey! Wake up!"

An echoing cackle, _his _cackle, drown out his futile cries.

Bishop.

Raphael threw a venomous glare to the man approaching them, dark-clothed and smug behind his glasses.

"What did you do to him!" Raphael bellowed, but Bishop merely smiled.

He laughed again, drawing nearer to the struggling, infuriated creature strapped to a table beside his unmoving brother. "You never were the smart one, were you?" he laughed through his teeth, a mock-smile full of poison.

"You bastard!" Raphael seethed then spat square in the agent's face. Bishop's grin turned into a look of disgust as he removed his glasses and wiped them with a black handkerchief.

Bishop looked displeased. "You idiot! I have done nothing! Your brother is unconscious from his injury."

"Ha! Nothing!" he snorted "you've ruined our lives!"

"Lives? You creatures have no life! You have nothing to live for. You are soulless, wretched beasts."

Raphael narrowed his eyes into a dangerous glare. "Speak for yourself, clone boy."

"Enough!" Bishop roared, approaching Michelangelo who hung limp and motionless against the restraints. "If you are to see your brother remain alive, you will tell me where the rest of your family is."

"Dead" he lied, but at least it was only a partial lie. "We're the only ones left."

Bishop's lips curled into a hard frown. He could see right through the façade.

"You will answer my questions truthfully if you are to see your brother again. I believe him to be an excellent specimen for preservation."

Raphael eyed the tube-like chambers, the liquid, the pale-skinned beings that floated within, eyes wide in terror, yet mind dead to the world.

"It's true! Leo got killed. _You _killed him!"

"That escapes my memory, mutant" he seethed "and nothing escapes _my _memory!"

"I swear ta god! Just don't hurt him!" he screamed, fighting against the chains, all sense of pain wiped from his brain. But Bishop was undoing Mikey's restraints.

"Fuck you Bishop!" he roared "get ya filthy hands offa 'im."

Bishop's lips curled into a hideous smile as he loosened Mikey's straps and he crumpled onto the floor. When he hit ground, he whimpered and Raph breathed a small sigh of relief. _At least he ain't dead. For now._

At the sound, Bishop's expression shifted into a look of pure evil as he kicked Mikey's limp body hard in the plastron, leaving him wincing and moaning on the floor.

Raphael growled and struggled hard at the end of the chains. "Leave 'im alone!" he bellowed.

"Oh, I will" Bishop said coolly with a haughty smirk "once you agree to answer my questions truthfully. I have heard your brother call your names through your communication devices. He lives. Now, I will ask you again, where is your family?"

"Leo _is _dead. That's the truth. Don's hurt, he can't fight no more. That's who you heard on the walkie. He ain't here if that's what you're wonderin'. There ain't gunna be no ambush, cause we were it."

Bishop glanced down at Michelangelo, and then back to Raphael as if contemplating something. "Ah, and the pieces begin to fit together" he mused, voice piercing cold like one million daggers of ice. "Yet that still does not explain how you managed to evade me for three years. I have hunted you like the scum you are, taking your home, trying to expose you, yet still, no trace."

Bishop stepped closer, face inches from Raphael's. "Where is the transmat?" he quietly seethed.

For a moment, Raph was stunned, eyes scanning his surroundings as if in search for an answer. "T-transmat? We ain't got no transmat."

"That is the only explanation. You have somehow left this planet and then returned. I know about your little affair with the Utroms. I know you have done it before."

"How did you know that!" Raphael demanded.

"Three years of hunting, and you get to know your prey" Bishop said coldly, but the grin on his face told that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Three years of hunting, and he had finally caught his prey.

"Yet the lack of transionic particles anywhere in the city proves that you may be telling the truth. But what frustrates me the most is how you have managed to disappear so perfectly from my clutches and remain so for such a long time. And then, you finally resurface and fall right into my little trap as if you had never known the hunt was on. How is it possible for you to suddenly grow so wise and then be so naïve?"

Raphael didn't respond. His eyes were fixated on his unconscious little brother.

"Answer me!" Bishop demanded.

"You don't know nothin'" Raph said sharply.

"Then tell me what I don't know."

Raphael took a deep breath as he stared at his brother's peaceful face, the shred of hope that still dwelled beneath. If they were going to die, he had to deliver his message. He owed him that much.

"In tha future, you're gunna fight for the rights of people like us, instead of huntin' us like animals. We aren't the monsters ya think we are. One day you're gunna find out."

Bishop laughed sharply. "What are you, a fortune teller? What would ever make you believe this nonsense?"

"I've been there."

Bishop fell silent, stared at him for a moment, and picked up a communicator.

"Secure the perimeter, I need bodies in here stat. I have a specimen here for preservation."

"Yes sir" came a voice from the other end of the line.

"No!" Raphael howled "I'm tellin' the truth. Listen ta me! The Shredder is alive. _Now _he's still alive. He'll escape from the prison asteroid and kill millions a people. "

"You've lost your mind" Bishop exclaimed as two agents burst into the room.

"He'd attack Earth if ya didn't have the clone army" Raphael said quickly, eyes darting from the men back to his little brother. "You hafta make sure he never gets off that asteroid."

Bishop held out one hand to order his men to stop. They froze just feet from where Michelangelo lay.

"How did you know about my army?"

"I told you. I've been there."

Instead of replying, Bishop turned to his men waiting for the signal.

"Men, take the creature into a containment chamber. Full stasis. Let this one watch."

"Yes sir" chanted the two in unison.

"No!" Raphael screamed in a panic-filled roar. "Get your fucking filthy paws offa him. Damn you all ta hell!"

But all the screaming in the world wouldn't stop the agents from fulfilling their orders. Raph watched in horror as they picked his unconscious brother up and carried to an empty containment chamber. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bishop leaving the room.

"Bishop! Don't you dare walk away from me!" he roared, making Bishop stop and spin on his heels. "Come over here and fight me like a man, you coward!" he seethed.

Bishop approached with an evil smirk, drew nearer and said quietly in his ear "I have fought you, Raphael. Three years I've been fighting. I have fought you like a man, and now you are defeated."

Bishop drew back and Raph tore against the restraints in a fit of rage and fear. He had thought he was retreating again until in one flash of movement, Bishop spun around and delivered the most gut-wrenchingly painful roundhouse kick to his already injured plastron.

All words could not describe the burning, stabbing pain that shook him, brought him flittering back and forth from consciousness, his vision dimming by the light of the red-soaked room. He gasped and choked to fight for breath, slowly turning his eyes to his brother.

"Mikey" he gasped. The container was quickly brimming with liquid, pouring over his sleeping body, drowning him, deepening. Its poison was bubbling over his face now, leaving him cold and helpless, flowing above his head. The container hissed and sealed. The agents walked away, the metal door closing. His fate was sealed.


	34. Chapter 34: Everdark

Chapter 34: Everdark

"_Raph?"_

"_Mikey?"_

"_Leatherhead? Are you guys out there?"_

The fear in Donatello's voice as it poured over the walkie talkie made the old rat's heart sink to the floor. His son had felt it too.

And yet, what was even more haunting was the silence that reigned after each desperate call, the terror ripping through the quiet like hungry beasts, threatening to eat them alive.

It was only a matter of seconds when Splinter closed his eyes in the back of that old shabby van, channeling his soul to reach out, to touch his sons and feel their torment, to see through their fear-filled eyes.

And then he knew.

Snapping into reality as if dragged into desperation by some unknown twist of fate, the old rat flinched and quickly opened his eyes to the darkened world of the alleyway.

"Mr. Jones" he said quietly, opening the rusted door to the rushing wall of cold night air "It is time."

The lumbering man turned clumsily in the driver's seat to glance with knotted brow at Splinter's darkened silhouette. "Time for what?" he said hazily.

The old rat had caught him day dreaming, his brain running through the horrifying scenarios that the silence had pounded into his mind. Or maybe, it wasn't just his imagination getting the better of him. The urgency dripping from Master Splinter's voice told him that those haunting images just might be reality.

A bolt of panic ran down his spine as he felt his heartbeat quicken. The guys were in trouble. Serious trouble.

The old rat peered back at him with a haunting gaze, his eyes brimming with sadness and fear. "My sons are in danger. It is time for us to come to their aid."

"That bad, huh" Casey murmured quietly, turning back from his uncomfortable position to stare out the windshield into the utter blackness of the fear-soaked night.

"I fear they will die if we do not go to them" Splinter said solemnly, voice nearly a whisper as he stepped gingerly out of the van into the snow.

When the icy fingers of the winter air reached out and shook him, he closed his eyes in silent prayer.

_Leonardo, my son, show me the way. Guide us by the hands of fate._

It was his fate, his destiny written in the stars that told him which way to go, but there was another force in the stillness of that night, enveloping him, seeping into his skin. He could feel it in his bones, the aura that pierced through the dark and surrounded him in valiant light. The spirit of his warrior son gave him the strength to move on.

Using the shadows as his guide, the old rat slipped into the darkness and scurried to the gaping mouth of the alleyway, the sickly light of Bishop's concrete fortress pouring in on him in dull hues of orange and yellow upon the freshly fallen snow.

From behind him, he could hear Casey's footsteps, the slam of the car door, the shuffling of his sneakers ricocheting off the worn brownstone walls.

"Master Splinter, where'd you go?" the man muttered gracelessly, his voice just louder than a whisper as he wandered to-and-fro searching for any sign of the old ninja master. His words echoed upward with his footsteps across the hard stone walls into the starless sky.

Splinter stepped forward from the shadows and motioned for the man to join him, pressing a willowy finger to his whiskered lips before vanishing once again.

Quieter this time, the man came to join him, peering out into the great expanse, the fortress that held so many wretched secrets, so much needless pain.

"Remember your stealth, Mr. Jones" the old rat warned "if we are to be spotted, it will be the end of us all."

Casey swallowed hard in an attempt to calm his nerves as he took in the scene, imagining the enemies that awaited on this assault turned rescue-mission.

"Master Splinter?" he croaked, voice wavering with traces of his unchecked fear "no disrespect or nothin', but you gotta plan for us gettin' in and out of there without everyone endin' up dead?"

The old rat smiled slightly as he heard the whispers pouring from the shadows. He knew his fate well, and if he listened to the voices of ghosts, those who see with seeing eyes, destiny would be fulfilled. His sons' lives were in the balance, and all he could do was obey.

He sighed wearily as he turned to see the young man's fear-ridden features in the dark. "Mr. Jones, my friend, in my old age the world of spirits had drawn me closer. Leonardo will show us the way."

But Casey did not look satisfied. _Great, now he's talkin' ta ghosts. That's real reassuring, _he thought to himself with an audible snort, making Splinter quark an eyebrow at his apparent disbelief.

"I assure you, Mr. Jones, I have meditated upon this. It is the only way."

Casey shrugged his shoulders sloppily. "Whatever you say, Master Splinter. I'll be right here behind you" he said gruffly, pulling down his hockey mask and withdrawing a hockey stick from his golf bag dangling from one shoulder.

The old rat winced and placed a calming paw upon the man's tense forearm. "I must remind you again Mr. Jones" he chided "remember your stealth."

For that moment, Casey looked crestfallen, lowering his weapon to the ground. "Yeah, stealth" he grumbled "I got loads a that."

Splinter threw him another quick glance. Nineteen years of raising Raphael had made him grow accustom to sarcasm, and Casey's voice simply dripping of it. But doubt or no doubt, they had to move on. Slowly shaking his head at the lumbering man, he motioned to him in the darkness and slipped away from the safety of the alleyway into the reach of every horror, every danger, every terrible fate that lurked behind those concrete walls.

The old rat sprinted across the worn pavement street in a moment of terrifying exposure under the orange streetlamps, back into the enveloping shadow of the fortress. Casey followed closely behind, tracing Splinter's every footstep as quietly as his limbs would carry him. There they leapt from shadow to shadow along the winding concrete wall.

Then the old rat heard a sound up ahead and halted in his tracks, raising one gnarled paw into the air, calling for silence. Two guards lay up ahead.

"Be still, Mr. Jones" he whispered "I will incapacitate the guards."

Casey nodded, dumfounded as he watched Splinter meld into the shadows like a shadow himself and disappear around the corner where two audible grunts of pain echoed thorough the silence and went quiet once again. Before Casey could catch his breath, the old rat returned with a solemn nod and motioned for him to come.

As they stole into the shadows toward the scene of destruction that had lay waste to the main entrance just hours before, Casey couldn't help but stare at the unconscious bodies of the two guards that lay in a heap, silent and unmoving, grimaces of pain still smeared across their sleeping faces.

His heart pounded wildly in his ears when he saw the ravaged metal door, the darkened room that dwelled within where claw marks had torn through steel and concrete, where pools of blood still stained the floor. And it pounded even harder yet when he saw the gutted piles of bodies and limbs where the river of blood was born. Some brandished the obvious clean cuts of a well-sharpened sword, others looked like they had been torn and half-eaten.

He swallowed hard and tried to shake himself free of it, denying that his friends could ever be the creators of such carnage.

But it did explain the serious lack of guards.

Trying to forbid the images of savage claws and fangs from emerging from the darkest corners of his imagination, he followed the wise old rat as best he could, his limbs contorting in unnatural ways as he tried to blend into the shadows with the convincing obscurity of his comrade.

So far, it had worked. So far, they hadn't been spotted.

He just hoped that Leatherhead wouldn't be too far gone to be helped, because all the stealth in the world wouldn't stop him from gutting them like those eyeless men left bloodless in that pile.

When the old rat paused in a narrow darkened corridor, he heard their breathing echoing through the hollow walls. Splinter had his eyes closed, lips forming words that no sound would ever carry into air. It was a prayer, a question, a sign of desperation as he begged the ghost of his warrior son to show them the way to their fates.

After a moment, the old rat opened his eyes slowly and turned his gaze to Casey, a rekindled fire burning deep within his soul. "We must go to Leatherhead first" he whispered, turning to sprint further into the maze of metal halls, guided by the invisible hand of ghosts. Casey could only nod and follow him deeper into the underbelly of Bishop's sinister fortress and pray his friends were still alive.

He could feel it in his bones, in his coursing blood. They were alive. They just had to be.

As they rounded yet another corner and emerged into a narrow hallway that looked just like every one of the last, the rat stopped suddenly and placed a trembling paw lightly on an unmarked door, holding it there for a moment, letting it linger, and then, pushing it open with unexpected ease.

Within the room it was dark and quiet, just like every inch of the fortress the pair had explored. The silence was beginning to become almost deafening with the images of enemies burning from their brains, toying with their imaginations to make them think danger lingered behind every corner, watched from every shadow, ready to pounce at the slightest moment of weakness.

Across the empty room there was a heap, its silhouette unmistakable even in the pitched black that enveloped it. There, Leatherhead lay upon the concrete floor, chained to the ground like a vicious animal ready to attack. Chained without any shred of dignity like a rabid junkyard dog.

And yet, the shape remained unmoving.

Hearts racing, full of panic and coursing fear, the pair approached the beast.

They could hear his breath, deep, echoing, and terrifying as Splinter gently touched this thickened skin, shook him into wakefulness.

But no, the crocodile did not wake gently as if from peaceful slumber. He jolted with a feral growl, muscles tense and screaming for the fight as he sent Splinter flying backwards against a heavy paw, slamming him hard into a metal wall. His eyes were dull, angry, terrified, hungry.

"L.H.!" Casey screamed over the roars "Stop! It's us, man. We gotta get ya out of here!"

But the beast only advanced, drool pouring from its glistening fangs. Great, huffing breaths curled through his nostrils, thick with the scent of blood as he drew nearer, filling the room with its terrible moisture as the beast took in his scent.

Casey's eyes went wide as the creature drew nearer still, those powerful jaws just inches away from tearing his flesh, exposing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth.

And then he lunged, those gruesome jaws gaping wide before him and snapping hard with glistening fangs. A heart-stopping roar filled the room.

Casey's back was to the wall and he was panicking, screaming like a little girl as the beast charged and halted in midair, thrown backwards with the sound of rattling chains proving to be his savior.

The beast snapped at the air in frustration, eyes wild with hunger and rage, claws ripping through the air to grasp him, and yet he stood, just barely out of reach.

He drew in a rattling breath and skidded away across the wall, the creature following his every step behind those glowing yellow eyes, his death a mere chain's length away.

Master Splinter was on his feet now and ran towards Casey, about to pull him from the room and abandon their friend to his rage when the door opened in front of them and Bishop stepped in.

The creature that was Leatherhead spun around on his claws, skidding across the concrete with every muscles calling for his death. The claws left long gouges like canal ditches in the floor, readied for the flowing blood. The animal roared, eyes rolling in there sockets to expose the white, jaws snapping in the air, drooling profusely for the taste of warm, bloody meat.

But Bishop only smiled his hardened, poison smile and did not flinch at the terrifying sight. At the sight of that raging animal, he showed no sign of fear, didn't flinch at the ear-splitting roars, the rows of bone-cutting teeth. No, he did not run or cower, he only grinned.

He looked _pleased. _He was _laughing._

And that pissed Casey off.

His eyes narrowed under his hockey mask as he withdrew a baseball bat and settled it with a satisfying smack into his meaty palm.

"You think this is funny?" he bellowed, then charged before Splinter could reach him. He barreled to the man who turned and stood unmoving, staring at his foe through those dark, impenetrable glasses. His expression did not change as he smirked at the foolish man who thought he could actually face him with nothing but a baseball bat.

He'd need a lot more than that to take _him_ down.

Without a word, the man swung sloppily at his head and Bishop caught the bat between his two hands, the man's brute strength proving nothing compared to his synthetic strength. He took the bat before the man could let go and planted a swift kick to his abdomen. The man staggered backward and lost his grip on his crude, barbaric weapon.

Bishop looked at the bat in disgust and threw it away behind him, letting it skid across the floor with the hollow sound of wood hitting concrete. He peered then at the man with the same look of disgust and gripped his shirt before he could uncurl himself from the shock pain of the kick, throwing him backwards over his head to land hard on his back on the rock-hard floor.

His smile grew only wider as he heard the breath knock out of his opponent, but he did not care to turn and look. His eyes were set on the rat.

He seemed to be trying to calm the beast, which only made Bishop laugh at the futility of the act.

"You cannot calm him, rat" he spat viciously "It is not his choice to attack. My drug has induced this."

He could only smile viciously at the mutant rat's solemn stare.

"I made him this!" he bellowed over the feral roars of his latest successful experiment. He smirked haughtily at his horrified expression as the beast tried to attack again and again against the chains. The drug had made him powerless against his instinct. Now, only death would stop his attacks. The chains were digging deep into its flesh, letting the blood pour from the wounds. Bishop grinned at the sight of it. The blood will only provoke him further.

Bishop did not lose his expression as he walked to the cowering mutant creature, horrified by the sheer genius of his latest creation.

"Increased stamina, speed, strength, aggression. Because of this creature's unique genetic code, my scientists have developed a drug that will give my army superhuman capabilities and that will instill in me the power of a god!"

But the rat said nothing, his expression still holding that same look of sadness and horror. As Bishop advanced his eyes burned with ferocious pride and victory behind his dark glasses. And yet, the rat did not flinch.

"Each time he returned to me, I made my advances, increased the power of my technology, altered the drug and grew stronger. Now, it is complete."

"And then I thought I would try a little… experiment. I mused about what would become of this beast if I used its own aggression against it? What would happen if I injected it with its own drug, in turn heightening every ounce of strength and stamina and unchecked aggression? That how my greatest weapon against you freaks has been born. Your friend, your ally, in nothing but a soulless monster. He will not rest until he bleeds you dry."

"You cannot save him now."

But the rat had his eyes closed, seemingly untouched by the poisonous words, and immediately, the world turned upside down.

A pause of silence and the rat's eyes flew open, staring him with heart-stopping power straight into his eyes, a penetrating look that made him squirm. The sound of breaking chains and the beast was released. Its arms wrapped around his body and held him tightly, but did not attack with claws or teeth, only held him there, unable to move, as the rat lifted himself off the floor. Then, the lights went out. The whirring of machinery grinded to a screeching halt and everything fell into deafening silence.

"The mind" the rat began "is never truly altered or lost, for the spirit feeds it like a river, cleansing it from every poison, making it pure again."

The mutant's voice was quiet and low, nothing but a whisper in the silence.

"Do not underestimate the power of the mind, agent Bishop, for noting can stop the strength of one's spirit."

Bishop gawked in confusion and awe as he peered up to gaze into his captor's eyes, every trace of the beast erased from the glowing orbs, every shred of his plan, his genius slowly was destroyed.

"You are through, Bishop" the crocodile's voice boomed from above. "My friend Donatello's virus has wiped clean your mainframe."

Bishop struggled hard against the crocodile's grip as panic slowly settled in. "W-What? That's… impossible! No!" he roared, feeling now his imminent defeat. But no, it wasn't over yet. He wouldn't _allow _it to be over yet.

"We must find my sons, Leatherhead. Do you know where they would be held?"

"I believe I may" he mused, tightening his grip on Bishop who's hardened face now showed an obvious expression of pain. "My friend" the croc grinned viciously, every word dripping with poisonous venom "kindly tell us were you are keeping them."

Bishop struggled and growled ferally though his teeth, seething at his humiliation and defeat.

"Tell me!" the crocodile boomed, his grip tightening enough to break every bone in Bishop's body.

Bishop only smiled and let out a throaty cackle.

"It is a dark room, large chambers filled with strange liquids" the old rat said slowly, his eyes closed to the world.

Bishop's face suddenly paled. "How do you know this?" he demanded.

"I have other ways, Agent Bishop, than finding them through you."

But before he could answer, the croc slammed him hard into the ground, pressing his face into the concrete.

"Have you taken them to the containment chambers!" he roared loud in the agent's ear.

Bishop winced under the croc's heavy grasp, crushing his body into the floor. "Yes" he gasped finally, the word escaping him like a hiss. "Those wretched creatures are suffering by my hand as they deserve!" he growled from beneath the growing pressure.

"Leatherhead, do you know of where he speaks?"

"Yes Master Splinter. Second floor, room 211."

"Then take Mr. Jones, you must find my sons. Leave me with Bishop and we will discuss these matters fully."

"Yes Sensei" the crocodile said lowly with a nod, reluctantly releasing Bishop and stampeding out of the room with Casey in tow.

As he watched them leave, faint hope instilled once again but was interrupted by Bishop's slow applaud. He was standing again, a vicious grin upon his lips as he drew nearer to the old rat.

"Congratulations, rat, you have done surprisingly well. Years of research, gone, everything I have worked for for three years, gone. And yet, you made one mistake."

"You should have never faced me alone."

* * *

"Raph?"

The familiar voice was almost too good to be true. He refused to look and prove himself wrong so he stayed, silent and unmoving, head hanging limp against the restraints as he concentrated only on the pain, the loss of his baby brother.

"Mikey?"

The shapes were approaching through the darkness. The red light had gone out a long time ago, abandoning him to the silent room. The tanks didn't even bubble anymore.

Now one of the shapes was close to him, grasping his shoulders, shaking him softly.

"Raph! Can ya hear me buddy?"

He opened his swollen eyes and peered through his dampened mask, unable to lift his head from the heaviness. Pain and sadness had sapped all the strength out of him.

"Casey… I…"

"Oh god, you're ok" Casey gasped, clumsily undoing the restraints.

When the chains were released, Raph crumbled forward in a heap, barely able to stand on his own two feet. But Casey was there to catch him.

"Woah, hey, what happened? You hurt?"

"Mikey's dead" he whispered slowly, glancing with whatever strength he had left back to the containment chambers.

Leatherhead was there like a flash, picking up one of the metal tables and shattering the glass. The cold, green liquid poured like a poison cascade over the shards of glass and metal. And Mikey, cold, limp and pale, was cradled like an infant in the croc's strong arms.

Raph began to sob silently into his friend's shoulder when he saw the croc check his baby brother's vitals with a look of concern.

"He will live, Raphael" Leatherhead said softly, a sad smile passing over his lips.

Immediately, Raph's head shot up, his dark eyes glistening with tears. Those four words were the best thing he had heard in his entire life.

"He is in stasis, induced hibernation. We must quickly bring him someplace warm, but he will live."

Raphael was wavering now like he had lost all feeling in his legs. He smiled sheepishly as Casey tried desperately to keep him from falling.

"Oh. That's good" he managed to gasp before giving in to begging unconsciousness.

For the entire drive home, all Raph could remember were flitting glimpses of his little brother, wrapped in a blanket beside him in between the bouts of pain and darkness.

During those quick moments, he was the happiest turtle in the world.

* * *

A/N: _Two more chapters to go…_

_All your questions will soon be answered. Though these last chapters are taking longer than they have in the past. I am dwelling on quality, not quantity now, because I want to end this story with a 'bang'. I don't want to skimp out on the details now, because I'm aiming for lasting impressions. I don't want to leave any one thinking I botched the ending. Everything will be wrapped up in a neat little package for you all, so just hang in there._

_The next two chapters (plus an epilogue) will probably take me a week a piece to complete. So sorry everyone, it looks like my days of quick updates are through for now._

_Sorry for the cliffies guys, but that is part of the effect I'm going for._

_And thanks Tauni for the awesome review. I read it over and over again! You made my day!_

_So enjoy guys. Next one will be up in about a week._


	35. Chapter 35: Fire and Moonlight

_Prepare yourselves, dear readers. There will be blood._

* * *

Chapter 35: Fire and Moonlight

His heart was pounding hard against his chest, the quick, steady rhythm that erupted in his ears, telling him that yes indeed, he was still alive. But this man that stood before him, like a wraith cloaked within the shadows, that cold stone look upon his face, had every intention of putting an end to him, of stamping him out of existence, extinguished like a candle's flame.

He breathed deeply, ears pinned flat against his skull, and channeled in that flitting nervous energy, all the flowing hate that radiated from the enemy, and came to terms with it. He closed his eyes and let it seep through, drawing it in like cool water before breathing it out in one long exhale, seeping from his every pore. He took his battle stance.

But Bishop stood silent and unmoving, seething with blackened disgust and hatred for the creature that stood before him. The rat. That ugly, disgusting freak that continued to elude him time and time again. But it was not the rat that he had wanted, it was his sons, the turtles. They were warriors, tough and hardy. Their DNA would be a priceless addition to his genetically improved army of clones. Perfect, just as the crocodile had proven to be. Nothing like the rat, putrid, weak and feeble. This would not do.

His look of disgust only deepened, traced within the hardened lines of his face, when a voice poured over his headset, unbeknownst to the rat who struck a battle stance before him.

The containment chambers had been breached.

He had failed.

The rat waited patiently for him to make the first move, and he knew in the back of his mind that he should not give in to such temptation. Though the rat was weak, it could still prove to be a formidable opponent. But the rage bubbling inside of him was building into a suffocating pressure, telling him to lash out, to make the rat pay for everything he had done, all the crippling losses he had made him suffer. The pressure of it all was weighing down on him, chipping away at his placid exterior until it broke like a crack in a porcelain dam, letting all that rage and frustration flow out in one great rushing torrent that manifested into a howling war cry.

Bishop charged, but the rat was ready.

When his rash act of fury got the better of him, Bishop took the first swing, a graceless backhand punch that landed him nowhere and resolved itself in a quick jab in the abdomen, sending him backward a step in surprise.

With the turtles, he never had to worry about this, he never had taken it into consideration. They always attacked first. They always made rash decisions. Never before had he been so exposed, so vulnerable, forced to strike out and land into nothing as the rat took on the defense. He was the defense, always the defense, smiling wryly as each clumsy attack would miss him by inches to be returned tenfold, and he would always win.

But with the rat, things were different. He tried a kick to the face, his ankle was caught in one hand and twisted, nearly throwing him of balance and onto the floor. Adjusting his black glasses, he tried again, a fruitless attempt to grasp the rat's shoulders and throw him to the ground as he had that foolish man that had attacked him earlier with the baseball bat. But again, he was foiled, nearly brought to his knees by a blow from its walking staff.

And his anger only deepened like a coursing river. He never lost.

Striking out again with a very well blocked punch, he stared deep into the rat's glassy blackened eyes and saw no fire of anger burning there, only hurt, sorrow, pride, fear.

He could work with that.

Shaking loose his frustrations, Bishop's face hardened and cracked again into a joyless smile. He had found his enemy's only weakness, his only chance at victory.

"What is it rat, with you and your _family_ constantly eluding me? You do know that I will hunt you like the animals you are until your dying days?"

The finality of the words rang through the air and hung there for a moment, seemingly incapable of penetrating the rat who simply stood there, silent and unwavering, blocking every one of his attacks.

"You don't think I will find you again? I need the turtles, and I will not stop until every one of them is lying cold and dead on my dissection table."

Part of that was a lie, or, a twist of the truth. Killing the turtles would get him nothing. Yet it was an effective sharp-edged blade to crack the rat's stoic exterior.

"You do not understand the quality of life, Agent Bishop" the rat said quietly, blocking another kick with the end of his walking stick, and swinging it just so, knocking the agent off balance enough for him to land upon one knee.

He glared viciously back at the rat, the fire within feeding upon his increasing rage, hidden behind those darkened glasses.

"I did" he spat through clenched teeth "once."

And he lept up quickly to attack again, strikes coming with more speed, more ferocity, and though not a single blow managed to break through the rat's defenses, the force delivered behind each block had driven him backward a considerable distance. Now they were away from the holding chamber, hand-to-hand within the winding halls. Bishop smirked as he watched fatigue settle down to mingle with the fear dwelling behind the old rat's eyes.

"Aliens, mutants, freaks," he said viciously "you're all the same. Your very lives defy the laws of nature. Your existence is a plague on humanity, an infestation."

The battle was heating, strikes and blocks becoming almost rhythmic to the sound of their beating hearts, blood laced thickly with adrenaline coursing through their veins. They were almost to the entrance and Bishop's fierce smile widened slightly. The rat was growing tired, he could see it in his eyes.

"I see nothing natural about what you have done" the rat said solemnly, effectively blocking yet another ferocious roundhouse kick, but taking several steps backward in doing so.

Bishop's hardened smile turned into a vicious grin. "I protect the earth from this disease, rat, and I put each of you freaks to good use, to benefit humanity. The discoveries I have made dissecting alien and mutant bodies have allowed me to accomplish the impossible."

"Increased stamina."

He kicked. Blocked.

"Superhuman strength."

Another punch. Blocked.

"Even put a stopper on Death."

The last phrase came as a devilish hiss as he lashed out one last time, doling out a ruthless kick that connected, sending the rat skidding over backwards across the concrete floor.

Dusting himself off and regaining his stone-cold stoic composure, Bishop smirked at the ruin of his enemy, decimated to a mere pile on the floor, though it was still not enough to take him down.

The old rat's weathered hand reached out and fumbled across the hard stone floor in search of his walking stick, thrown from his grasp on impact. He had heard the hollow sound as the wood had clattered onto the ground nearby. It must be close.

His hand reached out into the darkness and his wiry fingertips brushed against wood, though nothing like the rough and knotty wood of the walking stick. This instead was smooth and worn. The touch had brought back something familiar in him, a flood of memories that washed over his consciousness as he grasped the hilt of his son's treasured sword. How it had gotten there was a mystery to him, but the sacred weapon felt kind and sharp against his hand. He caressed the hilt one last time before taking it up in his paw and standing to face him once again.

He could not fail.

His son's lives lay in the balance.

Bishop had seemed to grow impatient as he stood watching over him, a mere silhouette in the darkness.

"You tire, rat" he seethed through his teeth as he watched the rat stand again, something in his hand glittering silver in the moonlight that poured through the broken main entrance door. A sword. Bishop nearly laughed to himself.

"You cannot stop me, rat" he sneered "No matter how hard you strike me down, I will never rest until I have found you again. I will not rest until I have each one of you strapped to my dissection tables."

His words had finally seemed to have made the desired effect because not only did the rat look worn, but a flitting expression of anger had swept across his face. There it lingered for only a moment before washing away with the tides, though its fiery afterglow never faded from his eyes.

The rat lifted the sword and regained his battle stance, its lethal blade pointed straight to his enemy's heart, and then, he charged.

At the sight of his oncoming foe, Bishop grinned at this twist of his good fortune. The tables had turned and he found himself back in his element once again.

As the rat swung the blade, he ducked sideways to avoid its cutting edge kissing the tender flesh of his throat. The metal sang through the air, stopping just short, hovering there for only a moment, and then posed for another attack.

The rat struck again and again with the katana, swinging close and nearly striking with each passing cut in a nearly rhythmic flow of movement, the sound of steel slicing though the air.

And each time, Bishop ducked, turned, feigned, blocked every oncoming strike until he could see the weariness taking hold of his enemy's eyes, settling hard into his ancient features until every swing of the sword told tales of his sorrow, his fear, his failure.

And when he saw this, he made his move, ducking beneath the silver arch of that bloodthirsty blade and dove for the vulnerable flesh, the weakest spot, delivering a debilitating punch.

In mid-swing, the old rat staggered backward at the pain exploding through his abdomen, a stark and twisting fire that told of the things to come.

If he was to die tonight, he would take his enemy with him.

It was the only way he could protect his sons.

He drew his eyes into a vicious, focused glare and swung the sword, moving with the speed of silver spirits, faster than the rushing wind. He leapt into the air despite the pain and slashed through the tender flesh, landing in a crouch beyond the enemy, sword drawn behind him, its blade now flecked with blood.

Bishop stood stock still, unmoving from the spot where he stood, hearing the rat's soft landing behind him, the sting of the blade that had kissed his flesh. The black glasses cracked and broke from his face, landing with a soft clatter at his feet, exposing eyes, human eyes behind the demonic blackness. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek from the slash that was left behind.

And when he felt that warm, life-giving blood run smoothly down his face, he did not falter, he did not reach to touch it. Instead, that familiar cold smirk spread thickly across his face. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his lethal weapon.

"Enough of this foolishness!" he roared, spinning on his heels in one swift movement, holding the laser gun in the palm of his hand, aiming at the rat and firing.

It all happened before the blink of an eye, the laser's red beam piercing through the air to meet the rat with bewildered eyes. The beam connected with flesh, burrowing deep between the shoulder bone and muscle, cutting straight through him to the other side, upward into the bleeding tissues and bone.

Yet the rat remained unfazed. There he stood like a boulder against a river's current, blood running black in the filtered moonlight of this haunted place, so near the limbless bodies of his sons' latest victims. He did not stumble or waver, only gripped the sword tighter in his hand, one thousand fires burning behind his eyes.

He swung his sword, tip silver gleaming in the moonlight, its vicious point thirsting for yet another taste of blood.

He could see his eyes now, the emotion they betrayed. Gone was that cold and barren exterior. Now, he could see the rage, the frustration, the hot, vehement passion that lingered there with nowhere left to hide.

Within those eyes, he saw victory. Within those eyes, he saw his demise.

They circled each other now, stalked like predator and prey, though neither could tell which, like two lions hunting in the dark, calling for each other's blood.

Bishop kept his gun raised, pointed at the old rat's head. When his hand moved quickly downward, the rat foresaw his next attack. The red beam was born again, aiming for the abdomen, though the rat flipped quickly out of reach and light faded into dark once again.

Landing soundlessly on the concrete floor, the rat flipped again, turning himself in the air and swinging the katana in another swift arch of silver bent on decapitation.

Bishop quickly ducked out of the way, bending backward to narrowly escape his fate.

The blood on the old rat's shoulder ran thick and cold, warm rivers of stabbing pain that were erased from his memory in the heat of the fight.

Defeat was not an option. Pain was numbed by fear.

He had expected the last strike to miss, narrowly sweeping over his enemy's now defenseless body. He landed softly on the ground behind him and turned the katana in his hand before the man could straighten, thrusting its point deep into the enemy's back.

And the blade plunged through bone and flesh, singing a death song into the dark man's weeping arteries. He fell to his knees, breath escaping him in soft, deepened thrusts.

"You cannot defeat me, rat" he heaved, clutching feebly at the sword's tip that protruding through his chest, the thick stream of blood that erupted there, coating his hands and spilling onto the floor.

"I am a god!"

The last four words rang through the hollow quiet and hung there. In response, Splinter grasped his son's katana, buried so deep into his enemy, only the hilt was left behind, and reminded him of the mortal sensation of pain.

Like sliding the sword from a living sheath, he drew it backward, drawing a trail of blood that hung thickly in the air and spattered like living rain upon the floor.

And Bishop laughed as the blood wept from his gruesome wound, a deep, hearty cackle that rang though the silence and shattered it to one million sharp little pieces, edged and ready to pierce.

But the laughter ceased with a snap, a slight hitch of the dying man's breath as his blood ran cold upon the floor.

"I cannot die" he said soberly, all traces of smirk or smile erased from his pale, hardened face.

And then, he fell, face first onto the concrete without a single word, drowning in a black pool of moonlit blood.

When he heard the last rattle of death seep from his enemy's mouth like one long exhale, the rat gazed down at his son's blood-covered katana. He closed his eyes, ears flattened against his skull, and said his silent prayer.

_My sons, you are safe._

And then he let the pain erupt, pulsing through his shoulder. He reached a shaking paw to the gash and knew the blood would leave him soon.

Clutching his mortal wound, the rat held fast onto his son's bloodied sword and staggered toward the moonlight where another glint of silver winked at him like a star in velvet skies. He took up the second katana, brothers united once again, one cloaked in blood, the other silver and pristine, and let his heart guide the way through the beckoning cold of snow to where Leonardo lay.

* * *

_One last chapter and an epilogue to go, which will be posted simultaneously in another week or so. Please bare with me, for the ending will be bittersweet._

_It is a dark story, and I do hope that I have not taken you down a path you did not want to travel. _

_But thank you, dear readers, for traveling it with me._

_Much love,_

_Willowfly_


	36. Chapter 36: Tears of the Pendulum Sea

_Aaaaand the final chapter of War of the Shadows is here at last. It is the longest chapter, but I was determined to finish it right here, right now. Take that you crazy story! The author will prevail! _

_Maybe now I can get some sleep with dreams that don't involve the unfortunate lives of mutated terrapin warriors._

_But somehow, I still sense that's highly unlikely._

* * *

Chapter 36: Tears of the Pendulum Sea

It all had seemed like just a dream, the haunting of a passing nightmare, a trick of the light burning dim beneath his memory, because now in the shadow of this impending darkness, he could feel something settling deep within his bones, telling him that everything would be different now. The tides of fate were shifting and the world was forever changed.

Maybe Mikey's dream would come true, and when he opened his eyes, everything would be normal again. Leo would be standing there with that same worried look on his face, chiding him for being stupid, reckless, almost getting himself killed. And Don would be like he remembered him. So full of sprightly energy, that familiar warm smile without a trace of sorrow to taint it, disappearing into his lab to work on some new invention that was sure to astound and amaze. He had been strong then, whole. But now, everything was broken.

Maybe, all he had to do was wake up from this nightmare and be whole again, be everything they once had been, like nothing ever changed.

No future, no past, just now, the living, the end.

He would wake up in his hammock, stretch his tired muscles from a good night's sleep, maybe slip his way into the dojo, late again to practice again, fight with Leo like they always had, go storming off like a hothead, return and be forgiven.

How he ached for it all to be true, for all the lies to be real and not just some hopeless dreamer's wish. But all these things were changed now, and no matter what he did, nothing would ever make it real ever again.

He had to deal with the darkness because it was what life had become.

_Abandon the shadow, my son. Prove the light._

The haunting voice rang through his ears, within his brain, a sound beyond all sound.

"Master Splinter?" he called, confused into the dark.

He could hear his own voice edging the abyss, but could feel no movement of his lips. His Sensei's words carried through the shadows like a beacon clear and true, like a voice that spoke entwined within his soul.

"Sensei?"

His voice was hollow now as he lost his grip on the fading darkness. Frantically he struggled to find a foothold, something to grasp, something to draw him closer to those words, but none had ever came.

It was like losing Leo to the darkness all over again. That night he had tried so hard to hold on, to pull himself closer to his brother's ghost, but the freefall into reality had torn him away, leaving only words that rang clear through the impending darkness.

But now the words were different. Now they held all hope. It was a message, an order, a command to find the light.

Before he could make any sense of it, Raph felt himself return into his body, his eyelids cracking open slowly into the land of the living once again.

"Raph… Raph? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me."

It was Donatello's voice piercing through his skull. He could see his blurry outline through the crack in his eyelids, and he was way too close for comfort.

Before Don could pull away, Raph reached out and palmed his brother's face, smothering the flood of words that were pouring out of his mouth and pushing him away.

"I'm fine, Don. You can quit yellin'" Raph grunted, but smiled when his eyes came into focus and he saw the look of bewilderment smeared upon his brother's face.

"You sure?" Don asked, puzzled. He had his hands on his knees now and had drawn two feet closer than where Raph had pushed him back. He must have been trying to look at his pupils or something.

It was beginning to feel like his personal bubble was being popped before his eyes. Raph tried to duck his head away from Don's inquisitive stare, only to find the back of the couch stopping him from doing so.

"Yeah. Sure. Peachy" he grunted, knowing that wasn't entirely true. He knew the pain would find him soon. The numbness wouldn't last for long.

"You were unconscious, there has to be a reason" he asked again, growing more frazzled by the second. "Follow my finger."

With an exasperated huff, Raph did as he was told, his eyes following the series of movements Don was performing with one outstretched finger. When he was finished, Don dropped his hand limply down to his side and looked more confused than ever.

"There. You satisfied?" Raph grumped, irritation apparent in his voice.

"I don't know. Looks like a puzzler. I just speculated head injury because of Mikey…"

Raph's eyes fluttered wide in realization. "Mikey!" he gasped, trying to lift himself off the couch with a sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. But his attempt was suddenly shattered by a sensation compared only to running head-long into a brick wall.

Twisting his face into a grimace, he clutched helplessly at the pain erupting through his side, causing him to cry out like a wounded animal.

Don took a few steps backward and blinked in disbelief. This was Raph actually _crying out _in pain. Sure, he had been in pain before, he had seen him beaten to near death, but never, ever had he heard Raph cry out in pain like that feral sound he had just made. Don mentally smacked himself.

"Of course, pain! Why didn't I think of that?" he pondered wistfully as Raph writhed in burning torrents of pain upon the couch. For a moment, he stared wide-eyed at his older brother, unsure of what to do until he saw where Raphael was grasping. With gentle hands, he laid his brother into a more comfortable position and waited for it to subside.

"Where does it hurt, Raph?" he asked, voice raised a little over the groans of pain.

"My ribs" he gasped "they're broken… I know it… I… remember from the last time." His words escaped between struggled pants, eyes drawn tightly shut against the world.

After several minutes, Raph's anguished cries were silenced and only his labored breathing remained as he choked down the last hints of mind-numbing pain, the burning in his ribs turning to a dull, but ever-present ache.

Through clouded eyes, he watched his brother leave and then return, smiling warmly and holding a bottle of pills in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Take these, they'll make you feel better" he said softly, offering a few tablets and the water to his brother who was now rendered completely unable to move from the position he was in. He knew that if he even dared to breathe the wrong way, it would erupt again. He lay flat on his shell, staring at the pills from the corner of his eyes, blinking away the tears that had collected there during the last explosion of pain.

"But these're yours" he breathed, turning his gaze to his brother's anguished eyes as he pressed two tablets into his palm "you barely got any left."

"I know" Don said rather matter-of-factly as he sat back on his heels on the floor beside his brother. "You need them more than I do."

Pressing the glass up to his lips, Don slowly poured the water into his brother's mouth, trying to forbid it from dribbling down his cheek, though some escaped him anyway. He sat back on his heels again and watched as Raph swallowed down the pills, sigh deeply, and turn his gaze up to the ceiling.

"Is that what it was like?" Raph murmured after a long silence. "Is that the kinda pain ya felt after… ya know."

Donatello's expression sobered. Biting his lip, he drew out the silence in search of an answer.

"Yes. But all over. All the time."

From the couch, Raph made a small grunt of acknowledgement and sorrow for his younger brother. His eyes still remained closed, but the grimace of pain had subsided.

"Honestly bro, if that happened ta me, I'd be cryin' like a little girl. All the time." Raph shifted uncomfortably. "But don't tell no one I said that."

Don nodded and turned his gaze away, eyes drawn to the floor.

"I did. I used to, a lot, but Mikey helped me, and Master Splinter did too. I hurt like that for a long time, Raph" he breathed, refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

He didn't want to start it now. He didn't want to say it, so he swallowed the words back down. Raph hadn't been there for him then, but he was there now. It seemed like it would be so natural for him to say it, what the silence spoke aloud, but he didn't.

Instead, four words came out before he could refuse to let them slip. It was a confession he hadn't expected to make.

"Sometimes it still does" he whispered to himself, the words barely escaping through his lips, the secret he had hidden so well.

"What was that?" Raph asked, eyeing him with some concern. Don lifted his eyes to meet him, cracking a warm, pleasant smile.

But his heart was pounding in his chest. He had no idea what had made him say it, and he prayed Raph hadn't heard. It would tear his façade to pieces if he knew.

His family was already dangling by a string, and knowing his secret would only deepen the rift. For them, he had to lie.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing" he cooed in a sing-song voice and turned his eyes back to the floor.

Raphael's eyes shifted under his lids as he thought back to that darkened time, that point in his memory that he wished he could forget. His breath hitched a little when he remembered that night, the night he tried to make his escape, the night the darkness had prevailed. Since then, his path had been a winding road, a mad scramble up a rocky cliff, but it had all been worth it in the end. Now, he could turn back and see how far things had come, and see how far he still had left to go.

And again, a voice rang tried and true throughout his head. _Abandon the shadow. Prove the Light._

The light was out there somewhere, he just had to find it.

"Mikey will be alright" Donatello said softly, watching his brother's breathing ease a little at the reassurance. He had nearly forgotten. "He's in a state of artificially induced hibernation, and the nasty bruise on his head tells me he might have a concussion. He might not wake up for a while now, but he'll be fine."

With that, Don sighed wearily, but cracked a smile none the less. "I give him two… three weeks tops before he's back to his old self again."

"I wish it were that easy" Raph whispered to the ceiling, closing his eyes and swallowing back another stab of pain. He was beginning to wonder how long Don's painkillers would take to start working.

"Huh?" Don said dreamily, caught suddenly the web of his own wandering mind.

"I said I wish it was that easy… ya know… ta be the same again."

"People can't help being changed, Raph" Donatello said quietly, eyes glazing over with silent tears. "Mikey's changed, you've changed, I've changed. A lot. We can't help it, it's just who we are."

Raph painfully turned his head to look at his brother, throwing them one of those penetrating gazes that seemed to be able to shake the world.

"You didn't change, Don. Sure, you got hurt, but inside, you're still the same. You still can smile, you never lost your hope. You didn't let it harden you. Ya didn't get mad at the world, let it turn ya bitter like the rest of us. Maybe Mike and I changed, but bro, you're still the same."

The tears welling in Don's eyes made the world turn murky around him, but still they refused to fall. They just lingered there for eons, liquid proof of just how wrong Raphael truly was. Slowly, he shook his head.

"You're wrong, Raph" he said quietly. "You have no idea how wrong you are."

His voice was barely a whisper choking through his hidden tears, but the look on Raph's face told him that he had heard him this time. For a moment, they sat there, eyes locked within a silent stare, just reading each other, thinking of how different things might have been.

It was all still running through their heads when a small noise came from the doorway, causing Don to turn.

"I hope I'm not interrupting" April said quietly. "Is he?"

Don nodded and blinked the tears from his eyes. "He's awake. Broken ribs, but he'll be okay. "

Slowly, April nodded, walked over to the space before the couch, and helped Don to his feet.

Eyes locked to the ground, Don sniffled and let his shoulders hang limp.

"When the pain meds start working, can you wrap him up?" he said, sounding suddenly miserable. "This bug is catching up with me. I think I have to go lay down."

Sensing the pain that lingered in the turtle's heart, April gave his shoulders a loving squeeze before guiding him over to the stairway. "You take care, Don. Get some rest, ok?" she said softly, one hand rested on the banister as she watched her friend make his slow, painful journey up the stairs.

Even after he disappeared, she never peeled her gaze away.

Then, suddenly Casey emerged from the hallway and trekked his way down the wooden steps, dragging her kicking and screaming back to harsh reality.

"Raph's awake" she said with a smile as Casey's pace quickened down the stairs and was soon found crouching by his friend.

"How ya doin', buddy?" he asked softly.

"Peachy" came Raph's only snide reply.

"Don says he's waiting for the pain meds to kick in" April said from over her husband's shoulder.

"What pain meds?"

"I think they were his" April sighed.

"But don't he need them?" Casey asked, voice edging on concern.

"He said I need 'em more than he does" Raph grunted, opening his eyes and attempting to sit. With a wince and a groan, he managed to pull himself up.

"Take it easy there, Raphie boy, you're gunna hurt yourself" Casey warned, putting a strong hand on his shoulder in an attempt to keep him still.

Raph snorted. "Little late for that. Don't hurt that much anymore anyway. Pain meds are workin', I guess."

He blinked a few times as the room started to spin. "Wow this stuff is strong" he mused with a grin, feeling his pain start to ebb away to almost nothing.

"Good" smiled April, holding a long roll of stiff bandages. "Don says I have to bind you up so you don't hurt yourself more than you already have. Are you ready?"

Raphael quickly nodded, feeling almost giddy from the effects of Donny's pills, even after April started winding the bandages painfully tight around his plastron.

"So how's Mikey?" he asked Casey who was now sitting beside him on the couch.

"He's fine. Boring, but fine. He's been sleepin' since we found him. Don's got him up in your room."

Raphael nodded to himself, mulling the night's events over and over in his mind.

"An' Master Splinter must be up there with 'im?"

April and Casey suddenly exchanged worried looks, which made Raph's heart sink to the floor. That couldn't be good.

Casey nervously rubbed the back of his neck before he responded.

"Uh, Raph… Master Splinter didn't exactly… come with us."

Raph's eyes shot open, stunned.

"What do ya mean, Casey?" he asked, voice edging on a combination of anger and panic.

Casey looked down to the ground and didn't answer as April finished binding his plastron. Now Raph could see her face, the expression of sorrow that graced her gentle features.

"Casey" he seethed, new-found anger coiling within his voice "you damn well tell me what happened ta my father."

Casey's expression sobered and he raised his eyes to gaze deeply at his best friend.

"A-after we got you…" he stuttered "Leatherhead said we had to get you guys outta there ASAP, so we went out to the van, but Splinter wasn't there."

Raph's eyes searched the room for an answer, but found none.

"Splinter went in there" he said solemnly.

Casey nodded.

"After we lost sign of you, he and I went in to find you. We got to Leatherhead, but Bishop was there. He'd done something to L.H. and he had him attacking us like some rabid animal, but then Splinter did something and made him stop."

For a moment, he paused, waiting for the right words to find him.

"Casey, get on with it" Raph snapped, shifting uncomfortably against the urge to get up and storm out of the house to look for him.

Casey's eyes met his and for one small moment, he looked scared, and that was almost enough to make Raph want to run all the way back to the city if he had to.

"We… we got Leatherhead out an' gave Bishop a serious talkin' to… I gotta few hits in with my bat, but damn that guy's a freak…"

"Casey" Raph growled, his boiling anger nearing its breaking point "if you don't spit it out, I swear ta god I'll break your jaw."

Casey swallowed hard, feeling like he had delayed the inevitable long enough.

"He told us to leave him, to find you guys." There was a deep, suffocating pause that weighed down on them like a ton of bricks. "He fought him alone, Raph" Casey said slowly, quietly.

At that, Raph grit his teeth and pounded his fist hard onto the couch's arm rest. "That little bastard's gunna pay for what he did!" he roared, struggling to his feet.

Casey stood and held tight onto his best friend's shoulder, refusing to let him go. Forcefully pulling Raph to face him, he stared deep into his angry eyes.

"Bishop's dead. We saw his body out by the entrance. Splinter musta killed him 'an disappeared."

Raph pushed past Casey's iron grip and stormed to the door, ignoring whatever pain still lingered in his side. "We gotta find him, Case! Why did ya just leave him like that! God damn it!" he raved, reaching the door, but stopping before he could open it. Instead he just stood there, dumbstruck by his own bleak imaginings.

He pounded his fist on the rickety door and pressed his forehead to the wood, letting it all seep in.

He could feel Casey's hand on his shoulder, but dared not look up, dared not show any sign of weakness.

"I'll help you find him" Casey said quietly, reaching for the doorknob. "Come on, we can take the van."

Without a word, Raph eased himself from the door and let his friend push it open, letting in the hungry cold of winter's night air. Above him, the sky was clear, showing true the unblinking eyes of stars.

Silently, they clambered into the van and drove back to the city where all was quiet and the ghosts of warriors walked again.

* * *

After a while, he had grown tired of watching the world pass him by and he closed his eyes against it all, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. But the demons of his own imaginings were no kinder than the cruel world outside, the world that had made him who he was, that had ripped his family apart piece by tattered peace until all he had left to hold on to were scraps and memories.

And memory is what struck him now, something hot like tears that ran up and down his spine. The image that had passed through his brain into the darkness.

Leo's body engulfed in flames.

He could remember it so well, over and over again, and retrace it in every detail, every ounce of hungry flame, the scent of burning flesh, the blackened steel of his brother's swords.

He had walked away then, his heart made laden with the burden of one million stones of guilt, sorrow, fear for what life would be like without his brother there to guide him. It was a life he had once thought was not worth living.

But that was past now, and he wanted so badly to forget.

And then, the pain of realization hit him like wall. Leo's swords were left forgotten upon the floor at Bishop's base, still bloodstained and soaked with the countless lives of his most hated enemy.

He could forgive himself for leaving the sai. Without them, life would go on, but his brother's swords were like his own life's blood, a piece of Leo he could still touch, still grasp. But they were gone now, forever lost to the life and death of a ninja, just like their owner had been. Gone.

For a while, he thought about his brother, his swords, his honor. He thought about the dream where he had touched him, reached out, pulled him to his feet in his weakest hour and gave him the strength to keep moving on.

If it had been more than a dream, he would never truly know.

He turned it over and over in his mind, the way his brother had died, made his sacrifice for his family, and gave his life to save his own. It was honor, his honor, Leo's pride and justified honor that cloaked thickly every step he took, every breath he breathed, every word he spoke. His bother lived by honor and died in honor, and Raphael knew he wouldn't have had it any other way.

But still, his mind wandered back to the last day, that day of reigning fire, the day he knew he was truly gone. The park, he remembered, that willow tree by the water's edge where Mikey sat and cried, the familiar crunch of gravel underfoot.

Those memories never left him, curling through his mind with blinding clarity until he swore he could remember every blade of grass, every stone of gravel, the direction of the blowing wind, the slow lapping of the sea.

And then, he knew.

"I know where Master Splinter is" he said slowly, quietly, solemn as a stone as he opened his eyes to the world again to see the grey glow of the first light of dawn.

Casey turned to look at him from the driver's seat. "You do? Where?"

"The park, by the sea."

Casey quarked an eyebrow. "There ain't no sea in Central Park, Raph. It's _Central Park. _It's in tha middle of tha City. There's the harbor, and the ocean. I guess the ocean's kind of a sea, but that's nowhere near the park."

Raph let his shoulders slump in defeat. He was so sure about it, he could have sworn on his life that it was true. But New York City and New Manhattan were so different from each other, it was hard to tell exactly where, or when, the pieces fit together. The one thing he did remember about the future was the water. There was more of it and a lot less land. He could remember Donny going bonkers about Global Warming and the sea level and stuff, but he had been too annoyed by it to pay attention.

"That's it!" he snapped loudly, on the verge of an epiphany that could rival even Don's.

"What the…" Casey gasped, nearly driving off the road, earning him a symphony of agitated honks from a variety of taxi drivers parked along the sidewalks. When the van swerved back into control and they found themselves parked at the tail-end of a trademark NYC traffic jam, Casey spun around to his friend and threw him a glare.

"What was that all about?"

"I had an idea."

"Congratulations" Casey said sarcastically, earning himself a death-glare in return.

"Just shut up and listen, ok" he snapped. "In the future there was a whole lot more water than there is now, so a hundred years from now there _is_ a sea in Central Park. Got it?"

Casey looked dumbfounded, but he lied anyway. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"No you don't ya idiot" Raph snapped, pulling out a map from the glove compartment. He traced his eyes from the ocean to Central Park and back again.

"Kerry Lake. That's gotta be it" he mused then looked back to his friend. "You know, the lake the kids go skatin' on every winter."

"Yeah, I ain't that dumb, Raph" Casey grunted. "That's the place Mike said you guys came out from tha Time Portal thing."

"That's tha place. I think a hundred years from now the ocean's gunna get that far an' they sorta run together. Turn around, you're goin' the wrong way."

* * *

In the darkened room, Donny slowly made his way to his little brother's bedside, staring silently at his peaceful expression, so drained of all the tainted darkness, all the tension, all the fear that usually plagued him, hidden under the quiet mask of sleep. And for a time, he just sat there and listened to him breathe, staring at the purple mark, tender and swollen just above his temple.

It was a stark reminder of his weakness, his failure, his injury that had rendered him so feeble, so incapable of protecting his own brothers. He was helpless now, reduced to merely sitting and waiting for them to return to him, broken and half-dead because he couldn't be there. He couldn't fight.

Never in his life had he wanted so badly to fight, to be there in the middle of whatever mess his brothers could cook up, and simply be capable again. Before, he thought he had it all figured out. Before, he had thought it would be for the best if he never could pick up his bo again. He could invent now, be freer than he had ever been before.

But no, the weakness had weighed him down like a leaden chain, tethering him to a world that he would never understand. This life, this curse of loss and failure he would never wish on even his most deserving enemies. No one deserved to suffer this much. No one deserved to be this weak.

And now Splinter was missing, and the remaining fragile threads of his life were beginning to unwind. His brothers seemed to be coping after their long, hard struggle against the world. Raph and Mikey had come to terms, accepted that their lives had changed, and were slowly beginning to move on. But he had lived a life of lies and half-truth, telling his brothers, and himself that he would be okay with the curses placed upon him.

He had smiled, comforted, ignored the hurt of loss and anger that chipped away his hard exterior until finally it all came tumbling down.

He had had himself fooled for so long, when he finally had allowed himself to fall, the final explosion into reality had wounded his very his soul.

It was the lake, he had decided. That day when they had finally made it home when his world came crashing down, gnawing away at him piece by piece until only hollowness was left. It was like breaking through the ice marked the shattering of his own façade, letting the pain seep in through the cracks until he could bear no more. He had been so strong for so long, he had almost forgotten how to feel.

The sickness that followed was like a reminder of his weakness, his failure, his incapability. It had hit him like a raging storm and robbed him of whatever strength he still possessed until nothing else was left.

And now, sitting there in the silence, he started to wonder how much of it was truly physical and how much of it was fabricated in his head.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting the blankets on his brother's bed. But never did he sob, never did he allow himself to whimper. It was his own silent struggle, his alone to battle.

Mikey had fought it and won, Raphael had nearly let it take him down, but still, he had prevailed. Now, it was his turn to face his demons and pray they wouldn't overtake him. He could win, if he tried.

But he was weak, and try as he may, he would never have the strength to pull him through. He knew it. He could feel it in his heavy heart.

Suddenly, a noise behind him made him jump and banish all the tears from his eyes. Quickly he stood, nervously adjusting Mikey's blanket, and turned toward the figure standing in the door.

"I just wanted to check on you two" came April's gentle voice from the doorway, now soaked deeply with concern. Stepping through the threshold, she shut the door behind her.

"How is he?"

"His body temperature is back to normal, so it's just a matter of time before he wakes up. He probably won't be feeling very well when he does, though. That bump on his head is pretty nasty. He'll need to stay in bed at least a few more weeks."

At that, April nodded thoughtfully and shifted on her feet. For a moment, she just stared, resting one hand gently upon Mikey's plastron.

"How's Leatherhead?" Donny asked after a long, tense silence.

"He still won't come out of the basement. I think something really scared him back there."

Don nodded solemnly and brought his eyes back down to Mikey, but he could still feel April's look of concern penetrating him, asking a question she didn't have to say out loud. Hesitantly he turned to meet her gaze and tried his best to brush her off.

"I'll be fine. I'm just tired."

She took a few steps toward him and noticed the tears still swimming in his eyes.

"I worry about you, you know. You seem to be taking this pretty hard."

Don laughed silently to himself. Leave it to April to have him all figured out, even when no one else seemed to care.

"I'll be fine, April" he lied, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her.

Refusing to believe a word, April walked forward with her arms outstretched and pulled him into a much needed hug, careful not to squeeze too hard and make him pull away. She could hear his breathing quicken slightly, soft against her ear, but still he pulled her in, holding her close like his last dying breath.

When he spoke, he whispered into her soft cascade of hair. "Thanks for being here, April. You have no idea how much it means." He could feel the tears springing up again, but still he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, she drew herself away and smiled, the very sight of it melting the ice that had formed around his heart.

"You know I love you, right?" she grinned, playfully chucking him under the chin.

Don couldn't help his heart from fluttering at those five words. She said it often, but never did it mean anything more. She was like their sister, and she did love him, just not in the way he had ever dreamed.

Slowly, Donny nodded.

"Get some sleep, okay?" she cooed "I'll stay and watch Mikey."

"Thanks, April" he beamed. "Wake me up if he comes to."

"I promise" she whispered, lovingly caressing the turtle's cheek before he turned for his own bed in the corner.

And for a time, the room was drenched in silence. April never knew that Don silently cried himself to sleep.

* * *

When Casey's van pulled into the gravel drive, Raph could feel the rush of memory come sweeping over him, and in his heart of hearts he knew this had to be the place.

In the early morning light, the park was deserted and covered with a fresh blanket of unmarred snow. Getting out of the car, Raph hugged himself and slowly exhaled, watching his breath curl out of him and into the winter air.

But the thick moisture of spring lingered there too, the scent of sodden ground and new life. February's end was calling for March and new beginnings, and Raph could feel it in his bones. His had just begun.

The crunch of snow underfoot was muffled by the layer of snow, the creaking of dead trees, the groaning of the ice with water lapping underneath. The leafless trees swayed in the gentle breeze, reaching up to the grey dawn air, without a trace of red.

Maybe now the storm was over, and they could finally rest.

Raph didn't really know which direction he should take, he only walked to where his heart had told him, to where it had felt right, and Casey followed closely behind, eyes tracing through the snow.

When they saw the shape lying up ahead, neither of them said a word. Neither quickened their pace, for their hearts told them well what lay waiting by the water's edge. Their eyes only proved the truth.

Slowly Raphael kneeled beside his father's body and caressed the chill of his fur. He lay peaceful in the snow, eyes closed softly as in sleep. Only the thick, reddened snow that lay caked around his shoulder told truth of his demise.

He had come to this place, the last ghost within his memory, and laid down to rest beside the earth where his eldest son had lain. Drenching the white purity of snow until his last life blood had escaped him, and had surrendered himself to his fate, knowing that his sons would live on because of him.

_He's with Leo now._

These words echoed through his head, over and over until it became like a chant, a prayer, a hymn of belief, and he knew that this was better.

It was what he would have wanted.

For a long time, Raph sat there, legs abandoning all sensation to the cold, his head bowed before his teacher, his father, the only man that could ever save him from himself, dull the anger with a single word, a glance, a touch of his paw. And now, he lay helpless like a child in the snow, lost forever to the eternal world of sleep.

Without shedding a single tear, his voice wavering only slightly, Raph slowly drew his eyes up to his friend, a look that told him all.

"We have to bury him here."

Casey only gave him a solemn nod, trekked out to the van, and appeared with a single shovel. He was lucky he had kept it there, and even luckier it broke through the frozen ground. Whether it was the shovel, or his grief that made him strong, he did not know, but never did he dig as fast, as well, as lovingly as he did that day as he stole glances at his best friend, cradling his father's lifeless body and caressing his fur with his only hand.

Never did he shed a single tear. Never did he scream about the unfairness of it all. He only sat there, solemnly, his father's cold and stiffening body held against his flesh, and watched his best friend dig, pile after pile of frozen sickly earth until the day had risen from the treetops and the park still stayed abandoned to the cold.

When they lowered his body down and covered it with the soft brown earth, not a tear escaped his eyes. Never did he plead with the gods to revive him, or take him in his place. Never did he howl, bargain, struggle or weep even after the bare earth was all that remained and they covered him with snow.

Never did he weep until he saw the swords.

Buried in the snow, the glint of steel beaconed silver like the brightest star. With disbelief he reached, touched the cold steel to his fingertips, and gasped with the welling sorrow of his heart.

He withdrew the twin blades from their snowy sheath and held them to the February air. And he cried. For the first time in a long time, he hung his head and cried with every trace of blackness in his heart, with every bit of anguish, hurt and sorrow that lingered there within him until there was no more left to give.

And the van pulled away into the shadows, fading now and till forever into the burning ghost of memory, in search to prove the light.


	37. Epilogue: Band of Brothers

Three Months Later

By the midnight's moon drenched light, the gentle thrum of an engine pulsed through the trees overhead, the youngest tender leaves softening its echo and the crunch of gravel under tire until it idled and was silenced.

"Do you really think this is a good idea" said a voice softly in the night, ringing through the thick spring air peppered with the slamming of car doors. "Because if there's an ambush, I'm not exactly in fighting form."

"Aw, lighten up Donny, trust me, it'll be fine. That's the advantage of everyone thinkin' we're dead."

Donatello eyed the ground, his brother's arms slung around his shoulders. He refused to let his tension ease.

"Don't worry about it, Don" Raphael said, voice lowered to something like a whisper "If anything happens, I got your back."

With that, Raph pulled away and gave Don a wink and a playful jab. "That's what bros are for, ain't it?"

Donny couldn't help but smile, subconsciously rubbing the sore spot on his arm. "You're right. Thanks, Raph."

Raph nodded. "Anytime bro."

"Phewyyy! Smell that city air!" called Mikey from behind, voice carrying into the star-soaked sky. Letting the chill of it greedily fill his lungs, he swung down from the van's back seat. "It's good to be back! The country's way too quiet."

"No place's quiet when you're around, Mikey" Raph jeered, leaving Donny to himself, wistfully gazing at the stars.

"Aw, come on Raph. You can't say you don't miss it, you know, the action! The adventure! Man, I'm even starting to miss the Purple Dragons right about now."

"Yeah, don't get me started, Mikey. I been goin' through some serious skull bashin' withdrawal."

"Then why don't we move back?" he asked happily, stretching his shoulders from the long car ride. Once he shook free the stiffness, he bounced like a pogo stick on the balls of his feet, releasing pent-up energy. "I'm sure we could find a place if we tried. I'm so sick of that smelly old farmhouse. It's dark and boring and it doesn't even have cable. I have no idea what they're showing on anything other than local channels. All we get is crappy reality tv." he whined. "Being gone for three years doesn't help much either."

"Whatever, Mikey" Raph huffed, rolling his eyes at the living bundle of bouncing energy that was his little brother. But he knew no matter what he said or did, nothing would stop Mike when he got on a rant.

"We could find a place, you know, start new. We've done it before, and Bishop's dead now so we don't hafta worry about bein' found. It would be so easy. I have no idea what we're waiting around for living in that old dump!"

"Mikey!" Raph said through his teeth, grabbing hold of his brother's arm and anchoring his feet to the ground. Mikey's eyes grew wide as his brother turned him around to face the moonlit lake.

Then, Raph whispered in his ear. "Look at him."

"What?" he asked, confused, until his eyes found what they had been searching for.

By the water's edge, Donatello sat silently in the wet spring grass, knees hugged to his plastron. His head was bowed low as if his very shoulders bore the weight of all the heavens, pressing down on him from above.

"I don't think he's ready yet" Raph whispered slowly, quietly. "Someday he'll be ready, but not now. He needs some time ta think."

Slowly, Mikey nodded, unable to take his eyes off his hurting brother.

"He'll tell us when he's ready."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"I don't know."

Quickly, Mikey turned to face his brother, a sad smile spread across his face.

"Who cares about the city, Raph. The farmhouse is good enough for me!" he yelled, a little louder than necessary, his voice far too sugary sweet. But Raph knew the reason why. He was trying to make Don feel at least a little bit better about himself.

Lowering his voice, Mike stared back into his brother's eyes.

"Then why did you bring us here, anyways?"

Raphael smiled sadly. "You know where we are, Mike."

Mikey shook his head. "No! you wouldn't tell us! I thought it was supposed to be this big surprise." Mike looked around feeling unimpressed. "But you've really gotta work on your surprises, man. At the farmhouse we have way better scenery than this."

Raph shook his head. "No, didn't bring ya here for scenery, Mike."

"This is Kerry Lake, the lake we fell into after we came through the Time Portal" Don said softly from where he sat by the water's edge.

"Yeah, it is" Raph said "But that still ain't the reason. There's somethin' else. If ya want to know, close your eyes, Mike."

Mikey threw him a puzzled look. "No way" he whined "the minute I close my eyes you're gunna smack me or something."

Raph raised his hand in a show of surrender. "I ain't gunna touch you, I promise."

"Uh, ok…" Mikey said hesitantly, closing his eyes, but peeking through one for just a moment before he felt safe to leave them shut.

And he let the spring breeze sweep into him, feeling the crunch of gravel beneath his feet, the soft caress of grass. He could hear the gentle lapping of the water's edge and the breeze rustling through the trees.

And then, he knew.

"This is the place, isn't it?" he said slowly, opening his eyes but keeping them locked to the ground.

From behind, he could feel Raph nod.

With that, Mike sunk to his knees in the damp spring grass, running his fingers through its tender leaves, caressing the sacred earth.

This was holy land.

"Hey, bro" he said softly, feeling the kiss of grass between his fingers, his palms pressed against the dirt.

He could feel Don's hand upon his shoulder as he knelt beside him, eyes turned to the place where spirits called and warriors slept beneath the earth. For a while, they just sat there in silence, a wordless quiet that spoke volumes to their hearts. Raphael just stood and watched his brothers sit there, heads bowed down by the weight of the world.

When Mikey's glistening eyes looked up to him in the darkness, silent tears shone silver by the moonlight, they asked a question that need not be spoken with words.

"Is he...?"

Raph nodded once and drew his eyes away.

"We buried him here, right there, Mike. I knew when you closed your eyes you could feel 'im."

Mike nodded. "I felt him. I felt both of them." He turned back to his brother with bleary eyes. "They found each other, Raph."

He didn't answer, but he knew it was true.

Mikey felt Don's grip tighten on his shoulder.

Raph shuffled hesitantly, suddenly breaking the quiet. "Mike, I brought you guys out here for a reason."

For a moment, his eyes traced the plot of earth the young grass had reclaimed so quickly after the first thaw of snow. He tore his gaze away and turned for the van, leaving his brothers to ponder the lives of ghosts.

When he returned, he was carrying a swaddled bundle, wrapped beneath a rough, worn cloth. Kneeling before his brothers across the sacred plot of land, he lay the bundle upon the ground and unwrapped its tattered canvas.

Two katana shone brightly in the moonlight.

For a while, Mike and Don just stared at the purity of the metal, the silent arch of the blades their brother had held so dear.

"I thought you lost them in the battle."

Without taking his eyes away, Raphael nodded. "I did, but I found them again. They were buried in the snow when we found him. Sensei must have brought them here."

Drawing his gaze up with a weary sigh, he studied his little brother. "I'm sorry, Mike. I never meant to try and replace him."

Mikey looked away. Don's hand never left his shoulder, but he was crying softly now.

"I know. You were doing the best you could. You _still are_ doing the best you can."

"I know I never'll replace him" he spoke into the midnight air "I know I'll never measure up to even half of what Leo or Splinter ever was, but that's not gunna stop me from tryin'."

He looked lovingly down to the swords. "I know they make you crazy, Mike. You said so yourself, and since there's nothin' of Leo really here, I thought I'd give 'im his swords back."

Mikey stared at the small shovel Raph had carried over with the wrapped katana. "Raph… you don't have to do this because of me… I know why you keep them."

Raph let the breath draw slowly from his lungs as he took in every detail of those sacred weapons in the same way he had studied Michelangelo the night he had almost lost him. He wanted to remember every piece of it, every chip and scar in the polished metal, every spot of wear on the tsuba, held by his brother's hand. He wanted to remember every battle they had ever fought, side-by-side until the day they were left abandoned, three long years ago.

Those swords, that awesome power they possessed within his brother's capable hands, saving him from the edge of death more times than he could count, more times than he could ever remember. And now, they had saved him in more ways than one.

With those swords, he felt like Leo was truly Fearless after all, and it only took one touch to feel it too.

"Mikey, can you it dig for me?" he said quietly, words tumbling out like one long exhale.

With what little strength he had left within his limbs and tearstains on his cheeks, Mikey gently passed his fingers over the katana blades, giving the cool metal one final caress before he could no more. Then finally, he reached for the shovel and began to dig.

It was a shallow hole, dug quietly over the faint outline of their father's grave, and bundled in its canvas swaddle, they placed the swords within, catching a small glint of starlight from beneath the tattered cloth before they were laid to rest beneath the earth, saved from the harshness of reality forever more.

It was where they belonged, not strapped to the back of another in some small attempt to raise the dead, to forever be wielded without that quality, without the skill they had deserved.

They were a part of him, not just a weapon, but a piece of Leo's soul folded deep within that metal. And now that fragment of his soul would lay and rest, endure the tale of time until eternity's end, and forever be entwined with the warrior that bore it so many eons ago, the boy, the man, the creature who gave his life for one billion strangers and saved the world with sacrifice in a time that was never meant to be his.

And once the earth had covered and consumed the blades under a thick blanket of sleep, three brothers knew this well. Two lives had been given for the sake of their own, two lives that lay waiting until one day they too found sleep beneath the blackened earth and were made whole again.

But life had just begun.

Three shadows in the night, they stood there broken, tattered, worn, but still, they were alive. And at that very moment, three shadows swore upon the tender grass of their father's grave that every sacrifice would be reclaimed, sown into their souls until they knew that they had not been made in vain.

Their brother and their sensei gave their lives for them, and now nothing could stop them from living, from breathing, from searching for the light.

And there they knelt, knowing all these things were truth spoken on the wind, and bowed to those who were left behind. Deeply, they pressed their foreheads to the dampness of the earth and let it breathe them in until they could no more.

Then they stood, knowing life still turned somewhere beyond this sacred land, beyond the darkness of the night.

They were three, a band of brothers worn by the winds of tides forever changed, creatures of the night born once again. Now, they were three and broken, but together they would always be whole, always to remember, never to forget.

And when those shadows turned and left, disappeared into the night, only words were left to linger, a prayer, a vow remained.

Abandon the shadow, prove the light.

Fin.

* * *

_A/N: I hope this ending has lived up to all of your expectations. I do have to say I am satisfied. It was sadder than originally planned, but in truth, it is easy to see the happiness that lies beneath it all. _

_I am a strong believer that death is not an end, but merely a beginning. It is only those who are left behind that suffer before realizing that no one is ever truly gone, no one is truly ever alone._

_As you may have noticed, the last few chapters have portrayed Don in a slow downward spiral as he finally faces his inner demons. This and other matters will be addressed in the sequel titled Proving the Light, which will focus on the beginning of their new lives as three. If you wish for me to continue in this 'verse, please post something on my review board or feel free to pm me. _

_If you feel as though this fic should end as is, do not feel bad. Some things are better left untampered with._

_If I do continue, I do promise Proving the Light will be a little less dark, but will still contain action and angst abound. So please, tell me if it is what you wish to happen. If it is an unpopular idea, I will not continue._

_Thank you all for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed my story as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you. Thank you especially to my reviewers, who have helped ease my transition as a new writer. You all have begun to feel like my friends, my family, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart._

_Much love,_

_Willowfly_


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